


Harry Potter and the Puppetmaster of Hogwarts

by Lorde_Shadowz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dolores Umbridge gets a smackdown, Dolores Umbridge is Her Own Warning, Dumbledore's Manipulations, Evil Dumbledore (sort of; you'll see), F/F, F/M, Generally Good Slytherins, Ginny and Nagini are Besties, Good Severus Snape, Independent Harry Potter, Kick-Ass Hermione Granger, Parselmouth Ginny Weasley, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Powerful Harry Potter, Sirius Black is a good godfather, Vulnerable Severus Snape, good nagini, love potions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25534507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorde_Shadowz/pseuds/Lorde_Shadowz
Summary: Dumbledore isn't what Harry thought he is. Umbridge is causing trouble. Dobby is being helpful. And Severus Snape is under compulsions. Watch as Harry begins to unravel the nets that have been holding him down!
Relationships: Harry Potter/Undecided, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 45
Kudos: 158





	1. Chapter 1

To be fair, Harry never actually meant to eavesdrop. He'd been on his way to the dungeons when he'd seen Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's mangy cat, wandering the hallways and had pulled his rumpled invisibility cloak out of a jacket pocket for extra help in avoiding Filch himself, if he were following. It would prove to be very fortunate indeed that he had done so.

By the time he'd gotten to the potions classroom, he'd almost wished that he had just gone straight to back to the common room to play chess with Ron; it was chilly in the dungeons, and there's only so long you can walk around under a long, slippery, easy to trip on cloak without feeling just plain awkward. It wasn't like he really needed his potions textbook at this particular time...

Harry drew up short at the door of the classroom, still under the cloak. He could hear Snape's silky baritone, and he had to admit he was curious. Plus, Snape would kill him if he barged into his classroom when he was in the middle of having a conversation. Harry could just wait a few minutes, until he was finished, and then get his book.

"I would like to hand in my resignation," Snape was saying coolly. _What?_ Harry couldn't help drawing closer to the door. It was the dream of nearly all the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and even Ravenclaws to hear Snape say those words, and Harry just _had_ to see the epic moment. What followed changed his world. Forever.

"And what would you do then? I hardly think that anyone else would be open-minded enough to hire you, with your past," the Headmaster replied.

"I'm sure I'll think of something," Snape replied. "I've always wanted to open an apothecary in Italy, or some such place."

"And leave your obligations behind? I need you. Where will I find another potions master with this short of a notice?"

"Get Slughorn out of retirement. I'm sure he'll listen to you."

"I'm afraid that simply won't do. Besides, I need you to continue your other duties. Harry has to learn occlumency, and Horace simply can't teach him. Have you forgotten your oath?"

_What on earth is occlumency?_ Harry thought, wondering if Hermione would know. _And what oath?_ He inched closer to the door.

"I see." Snape's voice was gelid. "You simply don't want your spy to slip the leash."

"My dear boy, surely you want Lily's child to be protected..."

"Leave Lily out of this! You and I both know that this has nothing to do with Lily or Potter or anything else for that matter! It's nothing but power play!"

"What do you mean?"

"If you actually cared about Potter you would do something about it," Snape snapped. "Such as tell him why, exactly, the Dark Lord is out for his blood, or teach him instead of making him jump through your petty hoops and work through your obstacle courses and mind games every year. Or perhaps you might quit sending him back to his pathetic relatives every year."

"I told you about the blood wards. Lily would want him to be protected-"

"Lily would want that bitch Petunia in prison, and her husband with her!"

Harry was so shocked that he almost missed Snape's next words. How on earth did Snape know about Aunt Petunia?

"What good is protection from Death Eaters if his _family_ is a threat?" Snape was saying when Harry tuned back in. "Not to mention that the Dark Lord could just waltz right through those pathetic things you call wards. And then, no doubt, the ministry would scramble aurors there to arrest _Potter_ for underage magic!"

"Lily's protection-"

"-Only worked when Potter was not connected to the Dark Lord via a Dark ritual. They are technically, magically, blood brothers."

"That is not how it works."

"Oh? Than do enlighten me. It's not as if a have a mastery in Defense Against the Dark Arts or anything..."

"Enough. You will do what I say and keep your head down. If you report _anything_ to the aurors, I will bring charges against you. You will continue to spy, and you will start Harry's occlumency lessons. And you will not question me."

Harry nearly forgot to breathe at that. What was Dumbledore saying!

"Fine! Bring up my case in court! I can answer truthfully under veritaserum that I have not raped or tortured anyone, and that I regret joining the Dark Lord. If I'm executed, so be it. I'm tired. Tired of spying, tired of the _cruciatus_ , tired of little dunderheads blowing up cauldrons, tired of teach Potter this and watch Potter that and being unable to actually _help_ the bloody boy! I'm tired of coming back from a meeting shaking with the _cruciatus_ and being offered a few platitudes and a lemon drop. I've had ENOUGH, Headmaster!"

Harry didn't like the gleam in Dumbledore's eye. The man was silent for a long moment. Then he straightened. "Very well, Severus. If that's what you think. You are free to go."

"Headmaster? Are you sure?"

"Yes. I am immensely disappointed in you..."

Snape turned to lift his cloak off the back of his chair, and in an instant, Dumbledore had drawn his wand. Snape seemed to sense something was wrong, as he turned around, fumbling for his own ebony wand. "Headmaster?"

" _Crucio. Culpa exacerba. Vinculas._ "

The Potion Master collapsed in a heap, shaking, his dark eyes glazed with betrayal and horror.

Dumbledore stared down at him for a moment. "I'm sorry to do this, my boy." And then he raised his wand again. " _Parea. Obliviate."_

Snape's eyes misted over as the memory charm took effect. Before it could fully wear off, Dumbledore went on. " _Imperio_. You will forget everything that just occurred. You will let the aurors take you away, and you will plead guilty to whatever you are charged with if you are given a trial. You will not allow the use of veritaserum. When I decide to let you out, you will be grateful. You will return to spying, and you will teach the children without complaint. You will continue to hate and browbeat Harry; you will not reveal either the prophecy or the horcruxes to him. You will trust me and be loyal to me alone."

"Yes Headmaster," the Potion Master murmured dazedly.

"Good. _Stupify._ "

Snape's head lolled back senseless.

Dumbledore stepped back. " _Expecto Patronum Littera_!" Silver gas swelled from the tip of his wand like a bubble, slowly warping into the shape of a phœnix. "Amelia Bones, I'm afraid I have a problem. One of my staff attacked me- could you come right over?"

The phœnix flew out of sight, and, after casting a quick ' _incarcerous'_ on Snape, and several blasting curses and burning curses that pocked the floor and walls, bursting a few bottles and making the room into a veritable battleground, Dumbledore followed it. Harry, horrified by what he had just witnessed, barely had time to move aside before Dumbledore walked right by him, without seeing him, as he had hastily jumped into an alcove.

As soon as Dumbledore was gone, Harry crept back. Snape or not, he was _not_ going to leave anyone there in that condition. More than that, he wanted to know more. What were horcruxes? What was the prophecy? And what, exactly, was Dumbledore holding over Snape. His entire world had turned upside down in the space of half an hour. He thought for a moment. He had no way of breaking those spells, and he didn't know what Snape would do if he woke up (although he doubted it would be helpful, what with how heavily addled he would be right now.) And who would listen to him, against the testimony of one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore?

At last he knew.

"Dobby?"

Pop! In an instant, the elf was beside him. "What can Dobby be doing for Master Harry Potter sir?"

"Shhh."

The elf instantly quieted.

"Can you pop Professor Snape here to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and then come back here?"

"Yes Master Harry Potter sir," Dobby replied in a subdued voice, popping Snape away. Then, as quickly, he returned. "Anything else Harry sir?"

"Is there a way to conceal your magical signature to make it look like, say, Yaxley or someone kidnapped the Professor?"

"Yes, Dobby be doing that," Dobby said, still quiet. Dobby snapped his fingers, muttering a few words that were neither English not Latin. "Dobby done, Master Harry Potter sir."

Harry grinned shakily, even through the horror of what had transpired in the room previously. "Thanks Dobby, you're the best. Can you pop me to where Snape is?"

"Yes Harry sir." A flash of white light and a scent of orange dishwashing detergent, and the two of them were standing in the bathroom.

"Can you possibly pop me and Snape down into the Chamber?"

"Dobby not been in Chamber," Dobby replied, twisting his ears. "Dobby has to be someplace to pop there."

"Ok, it's fine Dobby, I can take him from here. Can you get me a bed with clean sheets and shrink it?"

"Dobby can do," said Dobby. "Extra beds in old quarters for wand-making teachers."

Dobby popped back with a bed the size of a matchbox. "It get big when Harry sir say 'big'." Dobby told him. Harry absently thanked him and, after opening the tunnel and casting a _scourgify_ down it to remove the slime, he slid down into the tunnel leading to the Chamber of Secrets, drawing Snape after him.

In half an hour, Harry had settled Snape in a small room off the main chamber, which, although bare of furniture and decked with moth-eaten Slytherin tapestries, was at least clean and dry, which was better than Harry had hoped for. He'd planned just to set him up in the main chamber, but this room was smaller, less creepy, and had the added benefit of _not_ having a very large dead snake in plain view. Harry couldn't help thinking that the reptile wouldn't exactly make for pleasant dreams.

Harry then _finited_ the binding charm, situating his teacher as comfortably as he could, and then asked Dobby for a sleeping potion. He didn't like to do it, but he couldn't keep an eye on Snape all the time, and what with the spells Dumbledore had cast on him, Harry didn't think the man could take care of himself just yet. And Harry needed an alibi. Soon.

So Dobby then popped him back to the bathroom, where Harry swore a giggling Myrtle to silence, and from there he headed to the library, hoping both to research the spells Dumbledore had used and to have an alibi when Dumbledore came back with the aurors to find Snape missing.

Dobby he sent back to keep an eye on the drowsing Potion Master.

Halfway to the library, Harry stopped, and began returning slowly to the common room, mulling over what he had witnessed and trying to figure out what he was going to do next. First things first: he was going to have to figure out how to counter all those spells. He knew what the _imperius_ and the _crucitus_ were, obviously, he'd read about the memory charm, but the others, _par_ _ea, c_ _ulpa exacerba,_ and _vinculas_ , were uncharted territory, and he didn't even know how to _start_ looking for such information. Ordinarily he would ask Hermione to help him research...but after the man he had trusted most, Dumbledore, had literally just tortured and tried to mind control one of his staff members, Harry felt justified in being just a little bit paranoid. What if his friends were spying on him for Dumbledore; didn't he always seem to know what Harry was doing? Or- *×÷×+*! What if Dumbledore could read minds!

Come to think about it, that was probably possible, seeing as Dumbledore always seemed to know what he was thinking. Even a Slytherin couldn't be _that_ good at reading body language.

Harry frowned. The logical next step would be to find someone to bring his queries to, or go to the library, but he knew that any such behavior would definitely be considered out of character, and he didn't want to deal with any questions that might arise, especially if their answers could get back to Dumbledore. And unfortunately, he had let Hermione bully him into finishing all his homework for the day, and the upcoming weekend...so he couldn't claim that he needed to go to the library to do research for an unfinished transfiguration essay. Besides, even if he hadn't, he knew Hermione would want to help him with whatever research he had, and Harry didn't feel like trusting anyone right now.

Harry slowed still further, then stopped altogether, leaning back against the tapestry-draped wall. He could sneak into the library after hours, but he didn't know precisely where to look for his answers, and there was always the chance that he would be caught. And it wouldn't look good if the Gryffindor Golden Boy was discovered researching unforgivables and possibly Dark spells, even if Dumbledore didn't obliviate him for the "Greater Good".

No. He had to talk to someone. Someone whom he could trust to keep his secrets, who wouldn't go running to Dumbledore as soon as it suited him. Someone whom he could trust to always be in his corner, who wouldn't be afraid to tell Dumbledore, and possibly the entire Order of the Barbecue Chicken, where to stuff it. In other words, he had to talk to Sirius. In secret.

Harry frowned, then padded back down the hall towards the Great Hall, then across it to the corridor that led to the owlry. He had to use a school owl, so that no one would suspect that the missive was from him until it was opened, and he needed to write it in such a way that neither Dumbledore nor Umbridge, assuming that they intercepted it, would be able to pick up any sensitive information. Once in the owlry, he picked out a suitably boring-looking school owl, placating a ruffled Hedwig with a few owl treats and a promise to let her take his next letter, and sat down, back against the wall, to write his letter. After fumbling around in his book bag for a few moments, he managed to withdraw a sheet of parchment, a self-inking quill, and a textbook to write on.

It only took a few moments of thinking and chewing on his quill before he knew what to write.

**Dear Snuffles,**

**I hope my message finds you well. I miss you and want to talk to you. Can we meet somewhere secure? The thing which I've told you about before has been happening a lot lately, and I have a new friend. Oh, and our defense teacher this year reminds me a lot of your mum. Can we meet where your old friend used to stay over?**

**Sincerely, Prongslet.**

Harry glanced down at the letter again, still chewing on his quill, and then smiled and started fitting it into an envelope. It was perfect. Sirius should get the message that it was urgent (and Dumbledore could probably get that from the letter too) but they would both think it was a completely different kind of urgent. Which was fine by Harry. It wouldn't take much to disabuse Sirius of that notion, but Dumbledore, of course, could carry on making assumptions for as long as he cared to, so long as he didn't learn the truth.

Harry at last pulled the wet quill out of his mouth and got up to tie the letter to the school owl's feet. With any luck, Sirius would be able to help. If not, Harry had a plan B. That is, if he could get a hold of some quasi-veritaserum. He needed to make sure his friends were loyal before he tried to confide in them.

And in the meantime, well, he would simply have to wait. With a faint sigh, he got up, shoved the moist and frazzled quill into his bag, along with his charms textbook, and stalked out of the owlry, going back to the common room. It wouldn't be well if he was seen to be distracted, even if he had a damn good reason for it. Hermione would be sure to ask if he was ok, and Ron if he wanted a game. And he could not answer either of those questions with what he wanted to say. Somehow "Hell no, I just saw the headmaster torturing our Potions teacher," and "When have I ever wanted to play chess, Ron" didn't seem like a good answer.

Harry strolled easily down the corridor towards Gryffindor Tower, coming to a full stop by the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Slimeballs," he told her, and she swung inward on her hinges, letting him into the warm, but somewhat gaudy Gryffindor Common Room. Slimeballs indeed.

It was going to be a long year (aren't they all?) and he would need every scrap of his admittedly ample Slytherin cunning to get through the day. Fortunately, he was extremely persistent...and the amusing aspect of playing Umbridge against Dumbledore while he sat back and...well...tried to figure out a way to defeat Voldemort, seeing as the adults weren't actually doing a thing about it besides forming committees or ignoring it entirely certainly helped

With an inaudible sigh, Harry walked over to the armchairs that he and his friends had claimed since first year. "Hey guys, what's up? You want to play Exploding Snap?"

Harry was on tenterhooks for the entire rest of the day. It was Friday, which meant that if the owl was fast enough, he would be meeting Sirius in the Shrieking Shack on Sunday at the latest, and there was a part of him that was actually dreading the meeting. He wasn't blind- far from it, actually- and he had seen how Sirius worshipped Dumbledore. And it hurt to think about. Either his godfather was being affected by compulsion charms...or he _wasn't_ , and Harry wasn't sure which was worse.

He wasn't about to let it affect him, though. He played Exploding Snap with his friends for a bit, fending off Hermione's questions with a simple "I went to the kitchens to grab a snack, and Dobby wanted to say hi," which automatically got Hermione fired up about SPEW, so Harry could slip away. Not wanting to go up to the forms just yet, he again left the common room, this time leaving the castle entirely to wander the grounds, flipping pebbles at the Dark Lake to annoy the squid. After a bit, he noticed Angelina strolling to the Quidditch Pitch with his broom over her shoulder.

"What's up?" he asked, noticing the wobbling bag of bludgers she was also carrying. "I didn't think we had practice..."

"Oh, it's a pick-up game," Angelina told him. "You wanna come?"

"Hell yes," Harry replied, making her blink at his language. "Hang on, just let me get my broom."

Before long, two teams, mostly Gryffindors, but with several Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff, were careening through the air, bludgers flying with great force. Harry chased the snitch with enthusiasm, letting the whistling wind clear his head, and by the time the game was over, (Harry's team, the Intergalactic Owls having won- of course) he had nearly forgotten his secret. The key word being _nearly._

Because as Harry was high-fiving one of his teammates, the brash Hufflepuff Zacharias Smith, Dumbledore walked up.

"Good game,"

Harry barely resisted the urge to run- every instinct screaming at him to leave before Dumbledore found out that he knew what he had done.

"Hello, Professor," Harry said calmly, not looking at him. Maybe that would make it harder for him to read his mind. "What's up?"

"Have any of you seen Professor Snape?"

Harry tensed imperceptibly. Keeping from acting suspicious around Dumbledore would be the ultimate test of his acting ability. "No, I haven't, thank Merlin- we're already low enough on the house hourglass."

Several other Gryffindors snickered, having heard him.

"I haven't either," chipped in the chaser Katie Bell. A chorus of denials came from the rest of the students, and at last Dumbledore walked away after spouting a few platitudes. Harry wondered if he was the only one who noticed the anger and frustration beneath his grandfather persona. Evidently he was not exactly happy that his puppet had turned up missing.

Harry simply escaped as soon as he could. He knew that if Sirius was uncooperative, he would have to deal with both Dumbledore and Voldemort on his own, while the Ministry of Magic did It's best to discredit him. So he had to come up with a plan B. An exceedingly good plan B, because something told him that there'd be no time to implement a plan C.

He mulled over his problem all the way through dinner, in between mouthfuls of duck and orange marmalade, and bland chit-chat with the Golden Trio. He needed a way to detect potions and poison in his food. He needed a way to find out whether or not his friends were truly loyal and trustworthy. He needed to figure out how to counter the spells on Snape and get the vicious Potions Master to believe him. And most of all, he needed information, all the information that should probably have been told him in the beginning. And also, although this did not have any impact on his more important plans, he needed to dispell any idea anyone might have that he knew or cared about what happened to Professor Snape.

"Snape's not here," Ron said, as if on cue. "You think he got Called?"

"He probably just wanted an evening to himself," Hermione huffed. "Teachers have lives, too."

"Who cares where the greasy git is?" Harry told him, carefully removing any trace of sympathy out of his voice. If his friends, or _any_ Gryffindor for that matter was reporting back to Dumbledore like a good little lap-dog, Harry had to make sure he would never be suspected of having anything to do with the teacher's disappearance. The best way to do that would be to continue to maintain a facade of hatred for him. Not that it was all a facade. Just because he was trying to save the git didn't mean he had to like him, even a little.

"Harry!" Hermione burst out. "Treat Professor Snape with respect!"

"Like he ever did me?" Harry would have found the conversation almost amusing, except that he was sick of having to act and to lock away his real self behind layers of masks. Still, it was fun to be able to vent his anger- now if only he could vent it on the correct persons.

"I hate to say it, but I agree with Harry on this one, mate," Ron chipped in. "Snape's a git."

Hermione refused to talk to them on the way back to the common room, which pleased Harry very much, as he was lost in his own thoughts.

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Harry walked down to the Great Hall early, following the ever-ravenous Ron Weasley, and found himself a seat with unreasoned haste, for all the world like a hungry teenage boy. By the time Hermione had come down yawning, with (guess, guess) a book nestled in the crook of her arm, he had finished his waffles, and was simply sitting, waiting for the mail, hoping against hope that Sirius had sent him a reply. And then, at last, a nondescript school owl fluttered down, sticking out its leg so that he could collect its burden with an impatient chuffing sound. Harry untied the note with trembling fingers...

**Dear Prongslet,** (the letter stated)

**I will be there at the place we met in your third year at Hogwarts; I miss you too and am well. Remember to use your inheritance so Filch doesn't catch you! ;) And I fully concur with your assessment of dearest Dolores; she's as pretty as mummy. (Harry grinned unwillingly at that- he was still shaking from nerves.) See you tonight. (Harry started at that- it was much sooner than he had expected. Tonight. Tonight was when he would learn if Sirius Black would stand with him to the end. Of if he wouldn't. Harry swallowed and went on.) Love you much, pup.**

**\- Snuffles**


	2. Chapter 2

Harry paced the Shrieking Shack, scuffling the thick layer of dust with his boots as he waited, wondering how to phrase his concerns. One doesn't generally say "I'm worried that the headmaster of an upstanding scholastic institution is slipping me loyalty potions, due to the fact I just saw him using illegal mind-control spells on one of his staff members"; he would have to play it by ear.

By the first half-hour, he was starting to worry. Why was Sirius late? Had he been captured? What if he didn't want to come? What if... Gradually, his worried speculations began to grow more extravagant. Had Dumbledore somehow found out what he knew, and laid a trap? What if Sirius had been attacked by Death Eaters? Or ran across a rogue dementor? Or gotten hit by a lorry? And then, in the distance, he heard a loud, sonorous bark. There was the thud of the Whomping Willow passage closing, and the scuffle of paws, and all at once he found himself flat on his back on the splintery wood, with a large, shaggy black dog panting in his face.

Sirius. Harry was so relieved that he didn't even mind the dog breath. He came!

"Alright, off," Harry said at last, breathless with laughter. Sirius reluctantly jumped off of him, blunted claws scratching Harry's arm as he did so. Harry sat up, rubbing his arm, but before he could completely get control of himself, a now-transformed Sirius Black pulled him into a hug. Harry's grin widened exponentially; melting into the embrace, feeling the pounding of Sirius's heart. After a long moment, his godfather pulled away.

"So what is it, pup? I assume you had a reason for wanting to talk to me, besides just that you miss me. Did you get a girlfriend? Do you need The Talk?"

Harry blushed violently. "No, nothing like that you old dog!"

Sirius burst out laughing. "Your face," he said when he had somewhat calmed down. "But seriously, what's going on? Wait, is it Umbridge? Is she giving you problems?" His face was feral at the thought.

"Well, yeah, but..."

"But what?"

Harry hesitated. "Can you cast a silencing charm? Or maybe some anti-spying charms? Umbridge is already reading our mail, and she really hates me. I wouldn't be surprised if she cast an eavesdropping charm on me..."Harry half-lied.

"Absolutely," Sirius drew the second-hand wand Dung Fletcher had found for him in an odds and ends shop in Knock Turn Alley. Raising it, he swished it in a complicated motion, muttering a little Latin. Harry felt a tingle run across his skin, and yelped. Sirius looked grim.

"Definitely an eavesdropping charm. I wonder what else is on you?" Sirius broke it quickly. "You mind if I check to make sure you don't have anything else on you? If she's willing to breach your privacy like that..."

"Sure. But do the silencing charms first. And check to see if there are any spying charms on you or the Shack, will you?"

"Me? But I haven't been anywhere near Umbridge."

"Just do it, please; you can never be too careful," Harry told him. Sirius grumbled, but began to check. The annoyance was wiped off of his face when he checked himself. "You're right, pup," he said, breaking the spell with a few quick passes of his wand. "But who could have cast it?"

Harry watched the puzzled ex-auror steadily. "Cast the anti-eavesdropping spells, please."

Sensing the gravity in Harry's tone, Sirius did so at once. As soon as he felt the magic washing over him, Harry relaxed.

"Ok, we're good," Sirius said, after casting a few more auror-level spells. "So now are you going to tell me what all this is about?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Well, not all of this is about Umbridge. I mean, don't get me wrong, she's a sadistic nutcase, but she's not actually the biggest problem I have right now. Before I go on, is there any way to check for compulsions or loyalty spells or something?"

A pause. Sirius blinked at him in the half-light. "Of course," he said finally. "As a matter of fact, my dear mum specialized in mind-manipulation. I kind of had to get good at it." Raising his new wand again, he cast...and started cursing violently. "You have five,' he said flatly.

"Five compulsions?!" Harry asked, horrified. He'd definitely expected at least one, but five?

"Four compulsions: one looks like a impulsiveness enhancement, one makes you tell the truth, one's a 'friendship' compulsion, not that you can make friendship with magic, and one looks like a modified revulsion charm,' said Sirius in a clinical tone, which didn't completely mask the anger fuming under the surface. "And then there's a loyalty charm."

Harry looked at him for a few seconds and then let out a string of curse words that Dudley would be in awe of. "That miserable, manipulative conniving bastard!" He spat, as Sirius began work to destroy the spells. "I swear I will tie him to a street lamp by his hair and then leave him for the Death Munchers!"

"Harry," Sirius began, "You know who's doing it?"

"I think so," said Harry grimly, wincing as one of the counter-spells stung him. "Although one of his pets is probably doing the dirty work. You should probably check yourself, too."

Sirius finished destroying and disrupting the spells on Harry, and then turned his wand on himself. His own cussing was very impressive. "Two revulsion charms, two loyalty compulsions, a blatant willfull ignorance charm keyed to you, and a compulsion to think of you as James," he hissed when he could speak. "And a compulsion to not accept my inheritance.I will KILL whoever did that! _No one_ does that and gets away with it!"

Harry stared at him, nearly choking with rage. He was definitely in agreement. "It's Dumbledore," he said at last, as Sirius finished destroying the compulsions on himself. Sirius was so shocked that he actually dropped his wand.

"What?!"

"I said it's Dumbledore. At least I think," Harry confided. "I caught him using Unforgivables on Professor Snape."

Sirius stared at him. "You're joking."

"Unfortunately, I'm not," Harry said. "I didn't catch all the spells he used, but, he _crucioed_ him and then obliviated him. And imperiused him severely."

Sirius nearly dropped his wand. "Merlin," he said faintly. "I never thought I'd be sorry for Snape." A pause. "I don't know what to say."

"Um, I need your help. First of all I need to learn how to break compulsions and check for psychotropic potions in my food, then I need to figure out how to break the spells on Snape and get him out from under Dumbledore's thumb. Then I want revenge. I was already really mad at him for several things, and now I learn he's as bad as Voldie, and I want to make him pay. It wouldn't hurt if I could get revenge on Umbridge was I was doing it. She makes me write lines with what I recently learned was an illegal blood contract quill." (Sirius snarled) "Actually, if we could make the entire Ministry see that Voldie is back, and that you're innocent while we're at it, I think everything would be perfect! Then all we'd need to deal with is Voldie himself."

Sirius studied the cobwebby rafters of the Shrieking Shack, deep in thought, seemingly trying to come to terms with the revelations of the past hour. Then, finally, he refocused, a manic grin spreading all over his face. "So Harry," he began, that terrifying smile growing, if possible, wider, "What do you think about playing the world's greatest prank?"

"A prank?" Harry began, doubtful. "Liiike what? Itching potions in those stupid dayglow robes of his?"

Sirius burst out laughing. "I have to say, that would be fun to watch! But no, nothing so mundane as that. When a Marauder wants revenge, he doesn't just use a common, garden variety type of prank. We _crush_ _them_!"

A slow grin began crawling over Harry's face. "So what do you have in mind?"

Sirius glanced around, and then hurriedly cast a few more anti-spying spells. "Sorry pup," he said in a rather apologetic tone, although Harry didn't exactly see what he was sorry for. "I just really don't want anyone listening in."

Harry nodded. "Yeah; probably a good precaution. I mean, even without the spells on us, there could be some spells on the Shrieking Shack- I mean, it's known all over the school as _the_ snogging place..."

Sirius smiled. "No need to teach your godfather how to suck eggs, pup; I know _all_ the places to snog."

"And they wonder why your animagus form is a dog," Harry muttered. "But snogging spots aside, what are you planning?"

"First of all," said Sirius, pulling a large and ornate ring from his finger, "I need to give you this."

Harry took it from him, studying it curiously; it was large and almost gaudy, set with a ruby and black diamond grim's head, and it was not something that Harry would ordinarily be caught dead wearing. "What does it do?"

"What makes you think it does anything?" Sirius asked.

"Well, you'd think that anything that a pureblood would wear would either be a status symbol or it would be spelled to do something; they'd probably think it's so _muggle_ to wear ordinary jewellery."

Sirius barked a laugh. "You could say that," he said at last. "For starters, this is the Black heir ring. I need a successor or everything will go to the Malfoys. Or worse, the Lestranges."

Harry stared at him. "Sirius..." he began.

"Don't start," was Sirius's reply. "There's a war going on, and it would be stupid not to consider the possibility of me dying, or anyone else dying, for that matter, even if I wasn't convinced Dumbledore will kill me as soon as I'm not useful. You're my heir, pup, deal with it. But that's not the only reason I'm giving it to you."

Harry could only listen mutely, rolling the ring over and over in his hand.

"The House of Black specializes in combating mind magic. Most of our jewels and ornaments have old Black family magic- don't ask me how they did it- that can detect psychetropics and compulsion charms- I even have a whole box of rings for warding off the _imperius_ somewhere."

Harry blinked. "Do you know where they are? Those could be _really_ useful," was Harry's comment.

Sirius nodded. "I think they're still in Reggie's room. But anyway, the Black heir ring is not only an heirloom, it's meant to protect impressionable heirs from being influenced and attacked, so it has double the protections. While it can't block things like hexes and curses, it keeps people from reading your mind with legilimency and blocks compulsions and other mind-influencing spells, along with detecting and purging potions and poison in your food. Also, the stone on the ring also unscrews, and there's a compartment for a bezoar there- you'll have to get a new one though- I think Argent Black used it when his mother-in-law tried to poison him, and the ring hasn't seen the light of day since."

Harry looked at the ring with more interest. "So when you say it detects potions and poisons, how does that work?"

"The ring glows, except only the wearer can see the glow," Sirius told him. "Pink is for love potions, yellow is for loyalty potions, orange is for compulsion potions, and dark purple is for poisons and torture potions. It also detects legilimency- mind reading- and glows blue if someone tries it, while also blocking the attack. Compulsion charms cause it to glow green. If someone trys to jinx you from behind or something it flows red, but since it's made for blocking mind magic, the only other things it can really block are kiddy jinxes."

"So what happens if you already have spells on, or have drank mind control potions, when you put it on?" asked Harry, already sliding it on.

"If you've just drank them, you just vomit," said Sirius matter-of-factly. "If they've already been absorbed, you-"

At that moment, Harry doubled over with a hiss of pain, and Sirius hurriedly eased him to the ground, pressing him down as he convulsed, until at length the tremors died down.

"If they've already been absorbed, that happens," Sirius told him unnecessarily, rubbing his back as his panting eased.

Harry sucked in a deep breath. "Merlin. I never want to go through that ever again."

"You should be fine from now on," said Sirius apologetically, "at least unless you drink anymore hostile potions.

Harry just struggled to regain his composure. "What happens next?" he said once he was calm and well enough to go on.

"Well, for one thing, we need to know who can be trusted. I'm pants at potions, so trying to brew veritaserum is out, but after I break all the spells on Snape we could maybe convince him to give us some; he'd probably think it's a fair trade for getting him out from under the twinkly-eyes bastard's thumb."

"I don't want to take advantage of him like that..." Harry began.

"Rubbish. He's a Slytherin, he'll trust us more of he thinks he knows our motives."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "And you know this how?"

"Just because I'm not a slimy snake doesn't mean I don't ever let my Slytherin side out to play," Sirius said, with an almost dangerous smirk. "Although I do think that some of the spells on me were repulsion charms keyed to Slytherins in general and Snape in specific, and maybe a few suppressants- I often thought there was something wrong with me because of how much I hated Slytherins."

Harry simply gaped at his godfather, having never seen this side of him. Then something else occurred to him. "But won't Dumbledore notice that Snape's missing?"

"Yes," Sirius responded, "But what would make him suspect Snape's with us, especially if we cast anti-tracking charms?"

"He won't, probably, but he won't stop looking until he finds a wizard or a body, and Snape probably won't be happy having to stay in hiding for years...oh!"

"What?"

The grin on Harry's face was positively wolfish. "I know how to brew Draught of Living Death."

"It's a second year potion, pup," said Sirius, uncomprehending.

"I also happened to overhear Yaxley talking with his friends at the World Cup."

"And?"

"Wouldn't it be horribly tragic if our dear defense professor was attacked by Death Eaters? And died? I can cast the Dark Mark, you know, and I could probably bribe the forensics team to say he died, and then we just wake him up and go about our business, and Dumbledore doesn't know what happened!"

Sirius stared at him. "Wow," he whispered finally. "That, if you can pull it off, will be the ultimate test of your pranking abilities."

"We'd have to get Snape to go along with it, but I think he'd be more than happy to If it meant he didn't have to spy and wasn't being controlled by Dumbles. But this is where you come in. Right now Snape is drugged in the Chamber of Secrets, because I couldn't figure out how to break the spells. I need you to help me counter them and get him back to health; it would be suspicious if I were missing from classes, and even if anyone found you missing, no one would suspect you to be helping Snape."

"Me, look after Snape? I mean, we'd kill each other in twenty-four hours!"

"Well do you have a better idea?"

"I take the spells off him and then polyjuice as you and go to classes, and you take care of the prat while he's recuperating. I don't hate him much anymore, but I'm _definitely_ not playing nursemaid for the greasy git; I'd probably hex him."

"Has it occurred to you that if there's anyone he hates more than you, it's me?" Harry told him dryly.

"At least he has a reason to hate me," Sirius commented. "He might hate you because of James, but he *probably* won't hex you on sight..."

"Reassuring. Um, why _does_ he hate you and dad, anyway?"

Sirius wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Sirius?"

"Keep in mind that I don't know how much of it was compulsions," Sirius said finally.

Harry didn't like the sound of that. "How much of _what_ was compulsions?"

Sirius shifted on his feet. "We...well...weren't exactly friends in school," he said awkwardly. "James hated him because he fancied Lily. I hated him because he was a slimy snake. Remmy had ancient rune classes with him, and liked him ok, but he and Pettigrew always followed James or I. We...well...we always pranked the Slytherins. You know, the good old 'all your robes are flashing red and gold as soon as you enter the Great Hall', and 'the dungeons are knee-deep in whipped cream' kinda thing. But something about Snape always rubbed me the wrong way, James too."

Harry knew he wasn't going to like this.

"Fourth year was when it really got bad, because James went from wishing Lils would talk to him _at all_ to wishing he could get in her pants."

A pause. Harry blushed furiously, not really wanting to think of his parents as lustful adolescents.

"But of course, Lily's only male friends were a Hufflepuff firstie named Gilderoy Lockhart whom she tutored in Charms and Snape, and James wasn't all that happy about that. And since James didn't think Gilderoy was much of a threat, it was Snape he focused on.

"In our defense, we really did think Snape was bad for Lily. He was poor, he was a half-blood, he was just plain unpleasant, and he knew more about the Dark Arts then most of our teachers, and what was more, he wasn't afraid to use them- poor Remmy got hit with nasty hexes he invented more than once. And he was always hanging around with Death Eater wannabes like Malfoy and Carrow and Avery. And...well...the pranks got a lot more targeted and a lot more nasty.

"Fifth year...I think now we went way too far, but it's too late to really think about that. James and I bullied him, Lily defended him, he hexed us with Dark magic, he got in trouble. That was basically the outline of that entire year, except after midterm exams Lily and Snape had a fight and Lily stopped defending him."

Harry listened in horror; all he could think of was Dudley and his friends, chasing him as he tried to escape their fists. If they'd been able to use magic...

"By seventh year, he'd taken the Mark, and we figured that was confirmation that he was evil, not that we could do much to him by then. At that point, Lily had started going out with James, and she made him promise not to hex Snape...at least not while she was around.

"Then we all graduated. James and I went into the aurors, Remmy pinned down a job in muggle London, Lily became an unspeakable, and Pettigrew mooched off of the rest of us like the miserable rat that he was; we were all in the Order, too, and we all forgot about him, except when we had to fight him during Death Eater attacks, and the time the aurors raided his house. I only saw him once after that, before Azkaban, and that was the day...your parents died. At the time, I thought he was slinking away to rejoin his master. I only later learned that he had gone back to Hogwarts to drink himself into oblivion."

"So you bullied him until he took the Mark, and then decided he was evil?" Harry's voice was unnaturally calm.

"Pup, he-"

"If you're going to say he was probably going to go dark anyway, I don't want to hear it." A pause. "Would you have done the same to me?"

"What?"

"Siri, the Sorting Hat almost put me in Slytherin," Harry told him. "If _I_ had been the odd Slytherin half-blood with my nose in a potions manual and robes two sizes to large, would you have bullied me?"

"Pup, I-"

"I don't want to hear about it," Harry repeated. "Look, I'll catch you later, my friends are probably looking for me."

"Harry-"

"I need to think. If you still want to help me, meet me here in an hour and I'll sneak you into the school. But I'm not talking to you for a bit."

And without another word, Harry stalked out of the Shrieking Shack and down the tunnel.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry stalked back to the castle under in a foul mood, thoughts churning. Sirius had lied to him. Betrayed him, almost. He'd looked up to him, and only now did he hear that he- and his father- had been bullies. It was a rather painful blow. He paced the halls like a ghost, trying to think. He was now safe from potions and compulsions, but that didn't mean that his friends were as well. If they were actually his friends. _That_ thought especially hurt, but Harry would be the first to acknowledge his suspicions, especially now that he was no longer being controlled. It _was_ a bit odd that one of the first wizards he had met- Ron- would become his best friend, and now that his brain was no longer fogged a great many things were suddenly suspicious. Especially the fact that his crush on Cho Chang had melted away like cotton candy and soured in his mouth the minute he put on the heir ring. A love potion? Other things, too, were beginning to rise in his mind, and these worried him more, even, than a possible love potion.

Why had Dumbledore sent everyone out of the Great Hall when Quirrell announced that there was a troll? It would have made a lot more sense to keep everyone _in_ the Great Hall instead of having the prefects try to lead a gaggle of frightened lower-schoolers back to their common rooms...particularly because the Slytherin and Hufflepuff common rooms were _in_ the dungeons where the troll allegedly was. Why had the "all-knowing" Dumbledore not known about Quirrell? Why had the philosopher's stone* not been better guarded- there hadn't even been an age line, and saying not to go somewhere is a sure way to make a certain kind of child absolutely unmanageable with curiosity! Why had Dumbledore gone to the Ministry _on a broom_ the night the stone was threatened- he could have just apparated. Why had the philosopher's stone been hidden in the school in the first place- surely Nicholas Flamel could keep it safe, especially as he had been able to do so for six hundred years before Dumbledore got it destroyed. Why had Dumbledore waited until the last minute to give Gryffindor an absurd amount of points?

And second year- Dumbledore had been in the castle the last time the chamber was opened, and also could have talked to Myrtle- there was no way he couldn't have known about the basilisk, and it was also probable that he knew about the diary- so why hadn't he done anything about it? Why hadn't he taken points for the polyjuice episode? Not only that, but the wards of Hogwarts- yes, contrary to popular opinion Harry had read _Hogwarts, a History_ \- should never have let either Sirius Black or any unregistered animagus into school without warning- Dumbledore would have known all of that. But instead of getting Pettigrew to the Ministry, he let everyone almost get kissed by dementors for a year before telling Harry and Hermione to fix his mistakes with a ministry-restricted artifact which could have killed them all? And what was he doing letting a werewolf teach- Harry did love Remus, and his teaching was fabulous, but he was an active threat if he just plain _forgot_ his wolfsbane.

And then there were all the other horrible DADA teachers: one possessed, one stupider than a box of rocks, one a ministry flunkie and one a polyjuiced Death Eater- not a good track record. Speaking of polyjuiced Death Eater, how had Dumbledore not noticed that his alleged "friend" Mad-Eye Moody was an imposter? Harry was starting to shake.

His fourth year had been just plain horrible, and Dumbledore hadn't done anything to help him- not when he was entered in the tournament, not when everyone was wearing "Potter Stinks" badges, not when he came back almost crying with one of his schoolmates' bodies after being forced into a ritual to resurrect his parents' murderer. Harry had always thought that Dumbledore cared about him- even after he had seen what Dumbledore had done to Snape- but now he was beginning to question...and the questions that he was coming up with scared him, never mind the _answers_.

And then, horribly clear in his newly clarified mind, an answer coalesced. An answer that terrified him. He hoped he was wrong, but he knew he wasn't. Dumbledore was training him. All his life-threatening adventures had been nothing more than training. Dumbledore had sent him to the Dursleys to make him easier to break and control, and he had used potions, compulsions, and grandfatherly advice to warp him and twist him into a good little soldier. He made the Gryffindors win every year as a reward, to keep him in line, or- a still more horrific possibility to mention- as a treat before he was put down, like an unruly pet. The rest of the Gryffs would toe the party line- against him, if necessary- and Dumbledore would train him to fight Voldemort. If he survived, he would no doubt be put in house arrest or die in an "accident".

And Harry ran. He ran blindly though the corridors towards nowhere in particular, and ended up in a gallery he had never seen before, where he leaned against a wall and began to cry helplessly as the world truly fell apart around him and shock set in for the first time since seeing Dumbledore cursing Snape. He was like that a long time, but at last the sobs started to die away into sniffles, and he raised his head from his knees and looked around. And that's when he saw the girl. Long, dirty-blonde curls, beautiful, wide silver eyes. Ravenclaw tie.

"L-Luna?" he said cautiously, swiping a sleeve over his tear-stained face in an effort to hide his misery.

"Harry Potter," was her solemn response. "You remember me." It was not a question.

"Yes."

"Thank you." A pause. "Someone remembers me...it's almost like having friends."

A pang shot through Harry's heart at this. "Would you like to be friends with me?"

"Of course, Harry. It would be nice...you know the gadoodlesnorts have deserted you?"

"...gadoodlesnorts?"

"Oh, they are little animals which feed on lies and loyalty potions," she said, quietly.

Harry stared. "You know?!"

"Of course. But he would kill me if he knew I knew. That's what happened to mum," she said, suddenly sober. "She knew things he didn't want her to. It was reported as a potions accident, but he didn't know I saw. I was nine. Nine and I could see thestrals..." She straightened. "I've never told anyone what the animals mean before. But I know I can trust you, Harry Potter."

Harry was strangely touched. A wave of anger washed over him suddenly- Luna had lost her mother because of Dumbledore's manipulations, and yet she still tried to go on, friendless and labeled "Loony" by Dumbledore's loyal cohorts. It was then, just then, that he made a vow that he would see Dumbledore shamed and forgotten in Nurmagard with his enemy Grindelwald. Snape was one thing. He had been angry on his account, but there was still a little part of him that said that the unpleasant and cruel man deserved what he got, however much he tried to rationalize it. But Luna, sweet, strange Luna never deserved the loss of her mother; no one did. Sirius never deserved twelve years in Azkaban. Harry himself never deserved being shaped into a weapon at the cost of his childhood. And Dumbledore would pay. For all of it.

Luna pulled a book, a quill, and a scrap of parchment out of her bag, and began to scribble on said parchment. At last she put up the quill and pulled her wand from over her ear. "Pāʻālua huna," she said, tapping the paper. Then she grinned. "Hawaiian codex magic," she told him. "Anyone who read this will see nothing but history notes." Still smiling, she folded it into a paper crane and slipped it into Harry's hand. "That way you'll know the code. Don't tell anyone you don't know you can trust- try just the dog and the professor. Maybe add to it if you can."

"I- thank you, Luna."

"Good," she smiled, and then her silver eyes were suddenly misty again. "Goodbye, Harry," she said, the sing-song tone returning to her voice, "I've got to go see if I can find my homework- the nargles took it."

Harry simply stared after her, his entire world shaken again. Then, slowly, he unfolded the scrap of paper.

Code Word: real meaning/ alleged meaning

Crumple-horned Snorkack= a fugitive or refugee/ an illusive animal like an antelope, with crumpled horns and a bad temper

The Rot-Fang Conspiracy= ministry corruption and bribery/ a plot by ministry officials to bring down the ministry by a combination of dark magic and gum disease

The Hallows=Dumbledore's forces: The deathstick or elder wand is his firepower, the resurrection stone is his assassins and vigilantes, and the invisibility cloak is his supporters, bribes, and influence/ three fairytale artefacts.

Nargles= bullies and thieves/ little newts that which live in mistletoe

Moon Frogs= Selene Lovegood/ silver frogs which live in the sky but come down to earth for holidays.

Blibbering Humdingers= hurtful language and threats/ one-legged bison

Gulping Plimpies= "fishing for plimpies" means having been taken prisoner/ six-legged fish that live in mud

Heliopaths= irrational anger/ galloping, rampaging fire elementals

Wrackspurts=compulsions/ little creatures that go in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy

Umgubular Slashkilters= an attack is planned on you- be vigilant/ an exotic carnivorous beaver which can camoflage itself against wood and plants

Aquavirius Maggots= poison, or a plot against you/ pale blue blobs which live in water and make you rot from the inside out

Dabberblimps= we need to make a plan/ giant, four-legged featherless birds

Spuddertots= meet at your earliest convenience/ chunky little mammals with two of everything a human has (four ears, eight legs) and fur.

Floofs= I have a plan/ balls of fluff with lizard legs allegedly kept as pets by nagas

Harry, still staring at the list, realized that he had made another ally, and a powerful one. There was a new factor in the equation.

Harry remained in the corridor, staring after Luna and clutching the parchment, for a long time, before at last rising and throwing his invisibility cloak over himself and creeping back through the halls and down the tunnel that led to the Shrieking Shack, where Sirius had told him he would be waiting if Harry changed his mind. Sirius was indeed waiting.

"Pup," he said, eyes lighting up. "You came back!"

Harry felt a little guilty when he saw that face, but only a little; he had still not forgiven Sirius for being a bully, and, worse, not telling him until he had already learned from the victim of said bullying. "Don't get your hopes up; I'm still mad. There is a way you could help make it up to me, though, but I don't think you'd like it."

Sirius looked as though Harry had slapped him in the face. "What do you want me to do?" he asked shakily at length.

A small, wicked smile flashed across Harry's face. "I want you to break into a haunted girls' bathroom, slide down a basilisk-sized pipe into the Chamber of Secrets, and help me heal Snape. He's drugged right now, though, so you have no excuse to snap at him instead of helping him."

Sirius's mouth gaped. "You what...?" he asked at length.

"I said I need you sneak into the Chamber of Secrets so we can try to break the spells on Snape."

Sirius stared at him so long that Harry worried if he had sustained some sort of brain damage. Then, at last, he nodded. "...wait, how did you know where the Chamber was to hide Sni-Snape there?"

"Long story; I'll tell you later if you're a good dog," Harry said, unable to resist winding him up, even if he had bigger things on his mind. "I believe it involved a phoenix, the Sorting Hat, and a sixty foot basilisk which I killed with a sword."

"Sounds like the start of a bad joke..." Sirius began, before what Harry had said actually registered. "Wait. Sixty foot basilisk which you killed?!"

"With the sword of Gryffindor," Harry replied, smiling.

Harry couldn't help being amused when Sirius fainted, even if he was still rather angry with him. But they didn't have time for fainting, so Harry cast the _aquamenti_ to wake him up and led him out of the shack and up towards the school under the cloak. From there, they walked quickly and quietly through the halls to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, where the ghost, jubilant in her new usefulness as a sentry, asked them the security question which Harry had set up:

"What form does your boggart take and why?"

"A dementor, because they make me hear my mother dying," Harry said quietly, ignoring the choking noise that Sirius made at that.

"Got it in one," Myrtle said, giggling. "Go on down. Remember that you'll always have a place in my toilet if you die down there," she added cheerfully, giggling more when she saw Sirius's face at that. It seemed that having something to do besides swirl around in her u-bend and complain had cheered her more than she had ever been before, and Harry couldn't help but be glad for her.

Then Harry sobered, turning and leading Sirius over to the broken tap with the little copper insignia of a snake embossed on it.

_"Open,"_ he hissed breathily, and the sink did indeed open, revealing the great pipe that led to the Chamber. Harry looked down it and grimaced. "That pipe is disgusting," he commented, casting a _scourgify_. "There _has_ to be another entrance somewhere- I doubt Salazar Slytherin slid down a slimy, dark hole every time he wanted to visit the damn basilisk..."

Sirius looked both excited and terrified at that, but, ever the Gryffindor, he slid in after Harry without complaint...well, except when he flew out of the pipe and landed in a pile of rat bones.

Harry simply smirked and banished said bones, then cast a few powerful _reparos_ to fix the tunnel enough so that they could go down it to the Chamber itself.

Sirius was in awe. To be in a place that most wizards had only ever read about, a place built by one of the Founders...even if it was Slytherin, was something to aspire too. That lasted until he saw the basilisk.

"Bloody hell! Is that...?"

"The basilisk. Yes."

Sirius staggered. "You...actually killed that thing?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, enjoying Sirius's face.

"I...I'm not even going to comment on that right now. Where's Snape?"

"In here; Dobby is keeping an eye on him."

"Dobby?"

"The house elf I tricked Lucius Malfoy into freeing," Harry told him distractedly, leading him over to the office that he had converted into a bedroom for the Potions Professor and opening the door. Then they stepped inside.

The room inside was not elaborate, but it was nice enough; the walls were a cool greenish grey decorated with Slytherin tapestries, and there was a black lacquered desk decorated with astrological and alchemical instruments. Dobby sat mute, large green tennis ball eyes staring at both of them before going back to watch Snape. And Severus Snape lay on the watery-green sheets on the bed, face relaxed and at peace for the first time since Harry had saw him as a tiny firstie. Sirius stared down at him a moment, eyes tracing over the sallow face and languid, potion-stained fingers and nodded. Then he drew his wand and cast.

A few moments passed; then all the color drained from Sirius's face. "I...I never thought I'd feel sorry for Snivillus," he said at last.

"Why, what is it?" Harry asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

"Well, here," Sirius said, handing him the parchment produced by the diagnostic spell.

Harry took it and began to read. A wave of nausea washed over him.

_Diagnostic:_

_Patient: Male, 35 years of age_

_Physical condition: poor_

_* Heavy cruciatus damage_

_* Ill-healed bones_

_* Liver damage due to alcohol use_

_* Malnutrition  
_

_* Exhaustion_

_* Dark taint_

_* Magical drain_

_Magical condition: poor_

_Repulsion charm keyed to Gryffindors_

_Obliviate, cast by Albus Dumbledore_

_Repulsion charm keyed to James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew_

_Compulsion to seek Dark Magic, cast by Albus Dumbledore_

_Compulsion to swallow without tasting, cast by Albus Dumbledore_

_Lust potion, keyed to Lily Evans_

_Imperius, cast by Albus Dumbledore_

_Magic siphon, cast by Tom Riddle_

_Dark binding spell, cast by Tom Riddle_

_Empathy suppressant, cast by Tom Riddle_

_Cruelty enhancement, cast by Tom Riddle_

_Imperius, cast by Albus Dumbledore_

_Veritas charm, cast by Albus Dumbledore_

_Compulsion to swallow without tasting, cast by Albus Dumbledore_

_Trust potion, keyed to Albus Dumbledore_

_Loyalty potion, keyed to Albus Dumbledore_

_Repulsion charm keyed to Harry Potter and associates_

_Obliviate, cast by Albus Dumbledore_

_Obliviate, cast by Albus Dumbledore_

_Repulsion charm keyed to Neville Longbottom_

_Obliviate, cast by Albus Dumbledore_

_Obliviate, cast by Albus Dumbledore_

_Imperius, cast by Albus Dumbledore_

_Dependency_ _curse, keyed to Albus Dumbledore_

_Culpa exacerba, cast by Albus Dumbledore_

_Vinculas bonding, cast by Albus Dumbledore_

_Parea, cast by Albus Dumbledore_

_Obliviate, cast by Albus Dumbledore_

Harry stared at the sheet, feeling sick- he didn't actually know what half of these spells did, but they did not look good. "Dear God."

"Yes." Sirius looked as sick as he felt. "I never thought Dumbledore- I mean I- This is-"

"Horrible, I know. Can you break any of them?"

"I can try," was the man's response. "I know most of the counters, but they've been ingrained in his mind for a long time..."

Sirius frowned again and then began to cast.

Half an hour later, the dog animagus sagged against the wall with a sigh, the wand slipping from his shaking fingers. "He'll have to counter the obliviation himself or talk to an Unspeakable, and I'll need to get him one of those Black rings that fights the _imperius_ , because I was never taught the family magics. I also can't do anything about the Dark bonding spell- I think that's his Dark Mark because it was cast in parseltongue, and he'll need purging potions to purge the loyalty potions. About the physical damage, I healed most of it, but I can't do anything about the cruciatus damage and the malnutrition and exhaustion- it's not like I'm a healer. But he'll live." And with that, Sirius Black slumped to the floor unconscious.

Harry instantly ran over to his godfather, easing him to the ground; evidently the strain of trying to counter all those spells had done a number on him.

"Dobby!"

"Yes Master Harry Potter sir?" asked the elf, instantly next to them.

"Can you get me another bed?"

"Yes Master Harry Potter sir!" Dobby said at once, and popped out. He returned quickly with another bed, and Harry, who had looking around the Chamber, called him into a room next to the study Snape was in; he sensed that neither man would enjoy waking up in the same room together, however much their rivalry was fueled by compulsions. Once Sirius was situated (and a little free elf Dobby felt they could trust was watching him) Harry called Dobby to fetch him some parchment and ink, so that he could write a note for each of them. Then he had Dobby pop him back into Hogwarts, where he was astonished to find that it was nearly dark out, and there were no one in the halls.

There was no one in the common room either, though, and after a panicked moment Harry realized that it was likely that dinner had already began, so he headed for the Great Hall. It had indeed; everyone looked up as he strolled up and took his usual place next to Ron and Hermione, as if he had not just been in a legendary hideout of the Founders trying to heal the "dungeon bat" with the help of an escaped convict.

"Harry!"

Harry managed a smile as he looked at his friends, attempting to pretend that nothing was wrong. Ron, who was stuffing his face with mashed potatoes, seemed oblivious, but Harry noticed the glint of concern in his blue eyes, and realized with a shock that he would never have picked up on that before. It seemed the ring was doing what it had been designed to do and clearing his head. Hermione also looked concerned, but she was much more vocal.

"We were looking for you all over the place, all day- where were you?"

"Just around, you know. I took dad's cloak and wandered around; I was thinking some things through, about Snuffles," Harry said calmly, using the code name for Sirius, although he cringed just a little at the omission of the rest of what he'd been doing. He would have liked to tell his friends everything right then and there, but even without his newfound paranoia that his friends were reporting everything he said back to Dumbledore, such things as he wanted to discuss could simply not be brought up in the Great Hall- the other Gryffindors already thought he was barking mad because of those infernal _Daily Prophet_ articles, and overhearing what he would have wanted to say would simply confirm their suspicions. Not to mention that Dumbledore would quickly hear of it and know they were on to him.

"About Snuffles? Is it anything we can help with?"

Harry hesitated. This _would_ be a good opportunity to get advice for how to deal with his conflicting emotions regarding his godfather, but he wasn't sure how they would take it, and he wasn't even sure that he ought to be sharing confidences with them, anyway- he really needed that truth serum! But he supposed if he just left names out of it it should be okay. And he needed to talk to _someone_. Luna might be helpful, but she was at the Ravenclaw table, and there was no one else he could confide in, with the possible exception of Hedwig. "Um...yeah, actually. I always thought my dad and Snuffles were...well, not perfect, but just mischievous, you know, like the twins. But the last time I talked to Snuffles, he let slip that their pranks often got nasty and bullying. It just...it hurts, you know? I don't know what to do, what to say to him. "

The other two stared at him. "Seriously, mate?" was Ron's contribution. "I'd say chew him out and then forgive him, I mean, it's probably been years, you know. I mean, I know he hasn't really grown up much, from what I've seen he's decent now, I think that-"

But at that moment he was cut off with a quiet "hem, hem." Umbridge. As if the day couldn't get any worse.

"Yes Professor Umbridge?" Harry said, perfectly pleasantly, turning around.

"Mr. Potter," she began in that insidious confectionery voice that always reminded Harry of frosting that hadn't set up yet, "are you ill?"

Harry rubbed the raised welts on his blood-quill-abused hand beneath the table, knowing that there was no way this could turn out well for him.

"I don't believe so, ma'am, why?"

"You haven't shown up to your detention, dear. I'm afraid I will have to add another two- the lesson hasn't seemed to have _sunk in_ yet."

Harry gritted his teeth, longing to say what was in his mind: "I had more important things to do than let you torture me with a Dark artifact, such as saving my Potions professor from being railroaded into Azkaban and trying to save the whole miserable Wizarding world from one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Doublecrosser, you miserable ministry flunkie- why don't you go crawling back to the minister so we can get someone competent."

Instead, he smiled tightly. "Yes Professor Umbridge," he replied, knowing he had to pick his battles. Cutting up his hand was, quite literally, torture, but he simply had greater enemies to deal with. Not to mention that he was the son and godson of a Marauder. He could, and would, make her suffer, in a nice, humiliating, and quite untraceable way that would put the Weasley twins to shame. Employ quiet dissention and untraceable pranks until Voldie and Dumblemort were taken care of- then she, and Minister Fudge, would be out on their arses without so much as a by-your-leave- and in Azkaban if he could help it. (Well, Umbridge at least; Harry would probably rather let Fudge of on community service, both because it would horrify the pompous pureblood almost as much as Azkaban and because Harry would rather not sent _anyone_ there after what happened to Sirius...Umbridge being the notable exception. No one should be able to get away with torturing school children, and it spoke volumes about the wizarding society that she was even still free.

Harry suddenly couldn't wait to brainstorm ways to torment her with Sirius and possibly the Weasley Twins. Possibly something to turn that horrible rotting-cupcake pink cardigan into a writhing nest of squid tentacles? Or something involving foul odors and medusa hair? Or maybe making her clothes fall off of her in the middle of her defense class, or the Great Hall...the possibilities were endless.

"That wasn't fair, none of this is! She doesn't have the right to torture you like this!" Hermione was fuming. Harry appreciated the sentiment, and so neglected to tell her that life did not come with an innate quality of fairness.

Besides, he was too busy trying to figure out how he could get to the library and check out a book containing a recipe for a truth serum without being suspected. Hmm. Maybe he could take the Weasley twins into his confidence, at least in this. He would be the first to admit that he was hopeless at brewing and that he had never been a bookworm...and getting Hermione to brew the damn thing would be out, considering that he would be using it on her and Ron first. Perhaps he should just wait for Snape to wake up...


	4. Chapter 4

Severus Snape woke feeling better than he had in years. He never got a chance for deep sleep- in fact, he rarely slept at all between his duties for the Dark Lord and for the Order, and his brewing for the Hospital wing, and his grading, and when he did sleep it was usually because he had been rendered unconscious by torture, firewhiskey or sheer exhaustion.

His first thought was that he had been drugged. To a Potions Master, the taste of lotus blossoms and quince can mean only one thing, and that and the persistent haziness in his mind filled him with fear before he could mask it- who had the capability of drugging him, and what did they want with him?

He did not know where he was. It was obviously not the Dark Lord's mansion, or he would have woken up in pain, and the room he was in looked as though it was in Hogwarts, judging by the quality of the stonework. Severus rose rather unsteadily to inspect the room further, hardly daring to hope that the door would be unlocked. It wasn't, and Severus realized with a hiss of unease that he didn't have his wand. Now thoroughly worried and not a little curious, he began to explore the room for anything that might be used as a weapon or might serve as a clue to where he was and who held him captive.

The chamber was rather plain, but not at all unpleasant, with beautiful Slytherin green tapestries hanging on the walls and an elegant black varnished desk. On this desk, among alchemical and astrological instruments that Severus didn't pretend to understand, was an unsealed letter with his name scrawled on it in emerald ink. Severus hesitated, a wave of unease washing over him at the sight of the handwriting, although he was still too out of it to recognize whose script it was. But his curiosity and the natural instincts of a spy overcame his unease and after checking the letter with what little wandless magic he was able to perform, he opened the envelope and removed the carefully folded parchment. And this is what he read:

**Dear Professor,**

**I admit that I don't know how to start. To begin with, you are in the Chamber of Secrets** (Severus started violently, black eyes widening. How-? Who-?) **and your wand is on the desk; I didn't want you attacking us before we were able to explain if we were there when you woke up.** (Severus grabbed his wand at once, checking it for damage before sliding it quickly into it's holster, now no longer feeling vulnerable. So clearly his captors didn't mean to harm him- if they had, it would have been done when he was drugged, or while he was without his wand. But if they didn't want to harm him, what was he here for?) **Your room is locked, as you have no doubt discovered; the password is Salazar at the moment,** (Severus frowned. Why lock him in if they were giving him the password? Had they just done that so that he would have to have read the note before he could leave?) **a** **nd the main Chamber is safe enough, although you might be startled by the carcass of the basilisk outside. There's a makeshift potions lab in the next room over if you want to experiment with basilisk parts- I don't know what condition it is in, though.** ( _Wait- what?!_ Severus stopped dead and reread the sentence. Basilisk parts? A potions lab? Someone who had access to basilisk parts was letting him experiment? Why? What was his/her motive? Did he actually mean it? Even if it were a small specimen, the parts were likely going to be invaluable.) **I will warn you not to leave, however- I will explain later in person when you are a little recovered. Sirius Black would also be able to- he is in the next room- but he's sleeping off magical exhaustion right now. If you need anything, call a house elf named Dobby; he will be discreet. I give you my wizard's oath that we don't mean you any harm here. Just rest right now.**

Severus simply stared at the note for a long time, reading it over and over as the fog of the sleeping potion finally cleared, until at last he set it down and walked to the door. Even with the still lingering tiredness, and the possibility of clashing with Black, he might as well look around. He admittedly _did_ want to see if it was truly the Chamber of Secrets- it was every Slytherin's dream to find this place- it was nearly considered sacred. And what was this about a basilisk? "Salazar," he told the door, hoping the writer of the letter- why couldn't he remember whose handwriting it was!- had told the truth. He had. The door creaked open, and Severus walked into the main chamber. And his mouth fell open.

The Chamber of Secrets was sinisterly beautiful. The walls were greyish-green serpentinite, with snakes carved into the walls, and the face of Salazar Slytherin carved upon the opposite wall. Vast serpentine columns held up a very high roof, while the floor, except where covered with debris and large, shallow puddles, was of black, silver-flecked marble. And that was when he saw the basilisk.

Severus Snape rarely, if ever, lost his composure. But at the sight of the sixty foot beast, he very nearly broke down. Basilisk parts were invaluable, restricted, and horribly expensive; on a teacher's budget, he had never been able to afford more than scraps of skin, (which were closer to cobbler's grade than to Potioneer's grade). He had actually never even _seen_ anything other than scales, skin, and venom for sale, although he had read, in the older potions books in his library, that the eyes were a very potent ingredient and that the tongue could be used in many kinds of healing and restorative draught.

And then he stared, unable to believe his eyes. It had limblets. It was known, in certain circles only, that when a basilisk surpassed it's two hundredth year, it grew vestigial legs known as limblets, although that had not been documented for many years. It was hypothetical only (because no one had seen a basilisk old enough to grow limblets since the Founders age) but there was a possible recipe for a cure for lycanthropy which contained them, restored from a partial copy written by Herpo the Foul by the Potions Guild through years of painstaking theoretical work.

He faintly staggered back into the wall, leaning heavily against it, hyperventilating and barely able to breathe. A basilisk. A sixty-foot basilisk, with limblets and fangs as long as his arm. It was probably worth more than 200,700,000,000 G, and he was allowed to experiment with it?

And that was when the wall he was leaning against swung inward, and he fell backwards into a vast room. Severus staggered to his feet, shaking ever so slightly, and stared around him, wondering where he was. It was a laboratory. It was very old fashioned, with alembics, silver cauldrons and other tools of the craft, and floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books, instruments, and bottles of ingredients, surrounded by the faint shimmer of a preservation charm.

Severus approached to look at some of the spines of the books and grew even more light-headed. They were mostly hand-bound, written mostly in Latin or English- some even seeming to be in Japanese and parselscript. And the authors! Rowena Ravenclaw. Salazar Slytherin. Ignotus Peverell. Sapphira Gaunt. Mezi Hamaki. Herpo the Foul. Lina the Mistake. Merlin. Dr. Dee. Dr. Faustus. Arsenius Caesar. Ju'Ju Hashar. Prudentia Comnenus. Severus hastily gripped the edge of one of the tables.

When he had somewhat recovered himself, he hesitantly approached to read some of the ingredient labels, hardly daring to breathe.

Phoenix eggshell. Kelpie eyes. Unicorn tears, willingly given. Extinct Alexandrian Amberside blood. Kitsune whiskers. Literal stardust. Thestral hair. Vampire saliva. Crushed lamia fangs. Shed naga skin. Kappa liquid. Boomslang venom. Goblin earwax. High elf fingernails. Hippocampus liver. Lightening goat hair. Chupacabra fur. Bonnacon dung.

No one ever had, or would again, see Severus Snape crying and laughing hysterically at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sev is so cute when he's drooling over rare ingredients, isn't he?


	5. Chapter 5

It was ironic and kind of sad that what would ordinarily have been a detention from Hell turned out to give Harry the means necessary to further his plans.

He was (once again) headed to detention with Professor Umbridge, and he couldn't say that he was looking forward to it. But then- who _would_ be looking forward to being made to write lines in one's own blood by a sadistic bitch? In Harry's mind, the fact that she was even there was a testament to Dumbledore's evil plans- he couldn't _not_ know what was going on.

Unconsciously he braced himself, preparing for another evening of torture. He knocked, and Umbridge's saccharine voice oozed through the door like frosting that hadn't set up. "Come in, Mr. Potter."

Harry opened the door and calmly walked in, not wanting her to see that she'd gotten a rise out of him. He waited within feet of the door until she told him to sit down, and then stiffly sat, expecting the usual scheme, the Black quill which cut up his hand with every line he wrote- using his own blood for ink. Instead, she offered him tea.

He was instantly suspicious. There was no way that tea was not spiked with something; she wouldn't just invite him in for tea and biscuits for her own health. However, he did not want to tip her off as to his suspicions, so he accepted a cup- with lemon, but no sugar- and wandlessly reduced the liquid in the teacup while pretending to take a drink, although he would have much preferred to dash the tea out onto her potted plants...or on her hideous pink cardigan.

She then started interrogating him, and he realized with a shock that she had attempted to use veritaserum on him. Veritaserum. It was a very good thing that he had refrained from throwing the spiked tea out, and an even better thing that Umbridge didn't seem to know the symptoms induced by the substance she had just tried to use. So he kept his features blank, and told her what she wanted to hear, and kept his head down until she dismissed him, giggling girlishly...and as he got up to go, he slipped his hand surreptitiously into his bag and performed a discrete switching spell, swapping the contents of his nearly-empty water bottle with what was in the teacup.

Once he got back to the common room, he used his Black heir ring and some of the potion-detecting spells that Sirius had taught him to test the liquid. 60% tea and 25% veritaserum, with a further 5% lemon juice. Oh, Merlin, he was very lucky indeed not to have drank it; that dose would have been highly poisonous, as he had learned from their lesson on veritaserum in his fourth year. A dash of that liquid was going to be quite enough for what he needed to do.

It almost physically sickened him to do it, even if the veritaserum was medicinal-grade (probably from Snape's stores) and unlikely to harm those he was about to attempt to use it on. But he had to. He had to know their loyalties before he could go further. He had to know if he could trust them, if Ron and Hermione were really there for _him_ , and not to Dumbledore and his vague platitudes- "for the Greater Good". And the only way he could be sure they were telling the truth (without resorting to legilimency, which would be even more invasive) was to use a safe dose of veritaserum. Luckily, a golden opportunity presented itself to accomplish his task without arousing his friends' suspicions just that evening.

Like always, when there was any kind of assessment coming up, Hermione had roped the three of them into a study session in the corner of the common room, and seeing as there was both a Potions and a Defense test the next day, even Ron was attentive. However, since two of the three fifth-years were teenage boys who thought with their stomachs, Hermione had a snack break actually listed in her color-coded schedule, and Ron always made sure they had a quantity of snacks and drinks on hand for when that long-awaited time came. Tonight he had gotten tea, since it was the only beverage they could all agree upon liking, and which was available on short notice (Hermione didn't like pumpkin juice, Ron didn't like apple juice, and hot chocolate- at least the way the Hogwarts elves prepared it- took about half an hour to be ready.)

So Harry studied with the other two, chipped in when appropriate, and tried to stifle the part of him that wanted to blurt out everything, headmaster be damned. He thought that Hermione might have been worried, seeing as he was unusually tense, but she seemed to believe him when he mentioned offhand that he was having dreams of Voldemort all too frequently. And then, at last, Hermione crossed off "the ministry-approved theory of placating Elder Vampyres" off their list, as the last thing they had to study in DADA, and they all gave a collective sigh of relief. Then Hermione said "Snack next," and pulled the hat she was knitting for the house elves out of her bookbag.

Both boys tore into their food like ravenous werewolves, while Hermione gave first Ron and then Harry a disgusted glance before tearing into her own pumpkin pasty. Neither of them seemed to notice that Harry had drawn out a vial of decanter veritaserum-tea mixture out of his bag, although if Harry had not been consumed with nerves, he would have noticed that Ron shot him a sharp, calculating glance and only pretended to drink. And that was when Hermione's eyes began to glaze over. And a curse shot by his ear.

Harry whirled. Ron had gotten up, wand in hand, and was looking livid. "What did you do to her!"

"What?" Harry asked, heart sinking. Ron would never believe him after he tried something like this.

"I _saw_ you slip something in our tea," Ron responded, in a furious but quiet voice. "So I'm going to ask you just once again, and if you don't give me a workable answer I'm going to call Dumbledore.

Harry's eyes went wide. "Not Dumbledore," he replied in an equally hushed tone. "Listen, I've got a lot to explain and we can't do it here. I used veritaserum. I need you to come with me and bring Hermione," he said, picking up the precious bottle, "and will you trust me if I give you my wand and the veritaserum vial?"

Ron stared at him for a long moment, but then finally nodded and carefully took the wand and bottle that Harry gingerly offered him. Then Harry called Dobby, who popped the three of them to the Chamber of Secrets for their discussion. In a flash of white light and a rush of steam, smelling of dish detergent, they were in the middle of the Chamber, a wide-eyed Ron taking in the serpentine columns and green half-light.

"Alright, explain," he barked at last, when he seemed to be over his shock.

Harry blinked a few times. "Ok first, how good are your occlumency shields? And second, I think you'll learn just as much from my interrogation of Hermione, and I have to do that now before the veritaserum wears off."

Ron settled for responding "Good," and nodding stiffly, still looking furious, his eyes not leaving Harry's face.

"What is your name?" Harry asked, to make sure the serum was working, pulling out a dicta-quill the twins had given him so he wouldn't have to take notes in Magical History and a roll of parchment.

"Hermione Jean Granger," she replied tonelessly, the pen scribbling down each syllable. Ron seemed to be grinding his teeth, and Harry was surprised he hadn't knocked Harry out and taken him to Dumbledore already.

"Where do your loyalties lie?"

"Albus Dumbledore."

Harry winced. "If I told you he was using loyalty potions on you, what would you say?"

"That it must be for the Greater Good if he is doing it, and that I should be grateful."

Ron's expression was slowly shifting, like a mood ring, between anger, confusion, horror and worry.

"What do you think of us?" It was evidently too open-ended a question, as she listed about fifty different things she liked and disliked about each of them, and followed it up by declaring she had a crush on a red-faced Ron.

"What are your views on Voldemort?"

"He's an evil bastard who needs to be either in an insane asylum or a prison," she responded, startling them with her language.

"What do you think of Dumbledore?"

"He's a great teacher and really wise and..." she listed a lot of over-emphasized characteristics before finally saying "...but there's a tiny part of me that doesn't trust me, and I don't know why."

Harry looked at Ron, who looked grim. And then, all at once, a noise from behind them had them whirling around with a start, almost ignoring Hermione as their hands leapt simultaneously to their wands.

It was Sirius Black. "Whoa, pup, calm down!" he exclaimed, jumping back from the curse that Harry had cast automatically. "It's me."

Harry did not immediately relax. "What is the password to the Marauders' Map?" he asked, just to be sure.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Sirius responded calmly. "So you're going to tell them?" he jerked his head at Ron and the limp Hermione.

"Yes," Harry told him. "I was trying to use veritaserum and Ron figured out what I was doing."

"Oh. I see." He blinked a few times and then started. "Wait, where did you get the veritaserum?"

"Umbitch tried to slip me some so I pretended to drink it but spelled it into my water bottle instead."

Sirius grinned at her. "Definitely a Marauder thing to do! But...do you want me to check your friends while there here?"

"Not until you rest," Harry retorted. "You should be laying down right now, speaking of resting. And where's Snape?"

Sirius burst out laughing in lieu of a response. Harry's eyes narrowed. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. It's just that he found the lab. I have never seen him so exited in my life- he was actually smiling."

"You should have made him take a rest," Harry responded. "He's still recovering."

"I _tried_ to," was Sirius's response. "He was doing five cauldrons at once and nearly blew my head off when I tried to interrupt him. Told me that the ingredients he were using were so rare I couldn't compensate for anything that got destroyed if I distracted him. Then he went back to chopping and hasn't looked up since. Last thing I saw he was muttering about Saluki's Law and the qualities of kitsune whiskers and completely ignoring me."

Harry smiled. "I'll go in and stun him if he doesn't take a break soon."

"Good luck with that, pup," Sirius said.

Ron had been watching their interaction, head swiveling back and forth. Finally he burst out: "What is all this with Snape?"

"Um, I'll explain...you probably need to sit down for this."

Ron only gave a look, considering that he was already sitting down on the Chamber floor, next to a still-drugged Hermione.

"I was going to get my Potions textbook when I caught Dumbledore using Unforgivables on Snape, so I took him to the Chamber and sent Sirius an owl. Sirius and I talked and then he cast some detection spells and figured out Dumbledore's been using loyalty potions and compulsions and even love potions...I just _had_ to know if you guys were really my friends, if you really cared...I didn't know who I could trust, and I couldn't take the risk that I shared my secret and you would run to Dumbledore and tell him I'd figured it out and I'm so sorry..." Harry was almost in tears from all the tension.

Ron stared at him, slapped him hard, and then pulled him into a hug. "I-you- I get it but you have to know that I'm always going to be there for you and so is 'Mione. I mean, you couldn't make us leave."

Harry swallowed. "Ron- I know, I was just so afraid..."

"Dumbledore is a twisted bastard to make you afraid of your own friends," Ron told him.

It was at that moment that Hermione's eyes began to clear. "Harry? Ron? What's going on?"

Ron let go of Harry hastily. Sirius frowned. "Hold still," he said, raising his wand. "I need to do a diagnostic."

"A diagnostic? What happened?"

Sirius ignored her and cast a couple of diagnostics. And winced. "Ok, I need you to trust me on this," he said at last. Harry didn't like the sound of that. "I am going to have to cast some counters on you. It may or may not hurt based on how long they've been ingrained."

"Based on how long _what_ have been ingrained?"

"Hold on, just a second," Sirius said, beginning to cast. Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Accio diagnostic paper."

Said paper flew out of Sirius's hands. Both the boys' eyes widened. "You can do wandless magic?"

"Sometimes," was her response. "I _did_ have an incentive, you know, I hate people telling me there's something wrong with me but not telling me what it is." She started to read. "The bastard!" she burst out at last."I _knew_ there was something up!" Then she started frowning. "Wait. This thing says 'veritaserum exposure, 9:35." She cast a quick _tempus_. "It's 9:42. What did you do?"

Harry cringed.

"Well _this_ chucklehead learned Dumbledore was drugging him and decided to see whether we were in on it," Ron filled her in, "without telling us."

Hermione drew his wand. "You better be glad Ginny never taught me her famous bat-bogey..." she began. Harry flinched as she raised it. "You could have explained to us and _obliviated_ us if we refused to take veritaserum."

" _Obliviation_ is dangerous, 'Mione," Harry protested. "You've got a great mind- I wouldn't want to mess it up!"

"You wouldn't have, because I wouldn't have refused. And complements are not going to get you anywhere. Now Mr. Black, could you please cancel the rest of those spells?"

Sirius hurriedly began to cast, until his hands were shaking with exhaustion. At last, he lowered his wand and began digging in his pockets. "Done. Now all we have to do is make sure it can't happen again. I know some Black family magic...I could charm something..." he paused. "Hang on, I might still have a few Black family rings. I don't have any of the ones that resist the _imperius_ with me, but this one detects love potions and keeps your mind from being read and I think this one blocks compulsions and veritaserum..." he handed the love potion and legilimency one to Hermione (Sorry, but I think that you're more at risk from being love potioned) and gave the other to Ron, after he made sure the boy had the usual pureblood occlumency training. Then he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Sirius?" Harry asked. "Oh, God, we shouldn't have asked you to do that while you're still tired- are you ok?!"

"I've been better, pup, but it's not like I'm made of glass or anything."

It was then that he fainted. Again.


	6. Chapter 6

Severus Snape was in his element. Once the initial shock had worn off, he began to explore the laboratory, unable to resist the temptation. He felt as though he were thirteen again, the first time he'd ever been to Honeyduke's. After a little time spent simply reverently staring, he pulled out a copy of a _very_ rare potions grimoire to read.

It was utterly _amazing_. Potions Master Virgilius Tarquinius Mirabilis was a very famous Potions Master from as far back as ancient Rome, and no complete work of his had ever been found...until now. Not to mention that whatever it would have cost to buy or even borrow such a work would be far more than Severus could have ever afforded, even if he had been able to take up his lordship, which he hadn't.

This was a whole, lost work. He started in on it at once, unable to help himself. His Latin was not the best, but that didn't matter, because he was reading something that had been hidden in Salazar Slytherin's own personal laboratory for centuries, something that was a work of art in itself, without even counting the innovations, and which was utterly irreplaceable.

He managed to get about halfway through the book before he had to stop and attempt one of the recipes.

The potion, from an outsider's perspective, didn't actually look like all that much. It was a simple, cold-brewed paste which prevented heat or steel from harming someone's skin- essentially an ointment which was a prototype for the oral flame-freezing potions of the modern era- labeled in the book as Circe's Ointment, after an African witch who had saved the Greek hero Jason while on a quest. Nothing much, unless you were a Potions Master.

To Severus, it might have been the Holy Grail, despite his having his own copy in _Potions of the Ancient World._ Although the older potions manuals and tomes frequently mentioned the _miscelata_ method, modern potioneers had not been able to replicate; since it was supposedly a very easy technique, known to all the ancient Potion Masters- and even brewers, no one had ever thought to write it down, thus driving the Potions scholars nearly mad trying to find out how the process worked. But here the method was written out in full, in the notes added by a Medieval monk, who had apparently decided to add his own spin to the potions book that he was transcribing.

_"Miscelata," said_ the monk, _"_ _is the term for the process used here, a process very common in cold-brewed potions. The term, in Italian, means 'blended', which is exactly what it is. The usual textbook method is simply to crush the ingredients of the cold-brew, usually herbs, as animal parts tend to be needed to be cooked so the potion will not be spoiled, in a simple stone mortar until they are a fine, sticky paste, which must then be mixed with any liquid ingredients or water there might be and then left to ferment, usually for thirty days if it does not say otherwise._

_"The final step, the one that gives the process it's name, is that the cold-brew must be blended well and by hand: no spells will suffice. This technique is usually used when making ointments, salves, and pastes, as the and result is often thick and the types of ingredients tend to be limited to only what will not spoil during the cold-brewing process, without the use of preservation charms (which will retard the fermentation process)."_

He had struck gold. He was the first potioneer who knew the process since Humphrey Davy to know the _miscelata_ process.

He immediately had to stop reading and whip up a batch of the potion, leaving it at last in it's standard-issue cold-brew copper cauldron, with a cloth covering it, to ferment. It was the right color, the right consistency...now all that he had to do was wait thirty for the days. And so he went back to reading Virgillius's grimoire.

Then another potion caught his eye, a potion that, if drunk, would crush the mental shields and render the mind totally open to attack, making him shudder to think what would have happened if Voldemort (or Dumbledore, for that matter) got a hold of it, and, of even more immediate interest, the counter to the previously mentioned potion, a potion which could help your mind to recover being breached and even proactively build shields in a vulnerable mind. What was more, it was not at all a Dark potion, unlike the only current potion for enhancing occlumensy, which contained human blood and organs as well as several absolutely appalling ingredients that, to Severus's mind, made the potion to unpalatable to use even if it _was_ legal.

This potion, on the other hand, contained mostly herbs, grated roots, crushed freshwater pearls and dragon scales, and spices, although it did require a few drops of unicorn saliva, as a catalyst. All the same, it was not that bad, especially for such a valuable potion, and very easy to brew. And indeed, most potions habitually used in the hospital wing contained ingredients that the drinkers probably didn't want to know about, like kelpie snot; in light of that, the potion was positively delicious. And even if it hadn't been, it was far too useful for anyone to turn up their noses at, anyway.

Before long, Severus had made the mind-shielding potion, too. Within half an hour he was brewing half a dozen potions at the same time, synchronizing them carefully. He _probably_ shouldn't be doing that after having just recovered from...well...whatever had confined him to a sick bed; he didn't exactly know what, but the part of him that had always been denied its chance to just brew and experiment for pure enjoyment had a stronger mental voice.

He'd brewed ancient versions of modern healing potions and was about to attempt a potion he had seen in Mezi Hamaki and Saluki Li's book _Shapeshifter, the Thousand Uses of the Kitsune Whisker_ when the door fell open.

It was Sirius Black, but unlike usual, he did not look as though he wanted to kill Severus. As a matter of fact, perhaps because Severus was still so mellowed from the truly magnificent laboratory he was allowed to work in, he did not exactly return that sentiment, either. That didn't mean that he wanted the mutt distracting him right now, though.

"Black, what do you want? I'm busy!"

Black looked pleasantly surprised that Severus had not chewed off his head. "I wanted to see if you were ok. You-"

"Spare me, at least until I finish this up," Severus said mildly- well, at least for him. "Some of these ingredients are worth more than your life is, and this little cauldron," he nodded at the smallest cauldron, in which was a very rare medicinal potion that he'd always wanted to attempt, "is made from a ruby and would probably cost the Prince and Black fortunes combined. So help me, if I mess this up because of you..."

"All right, all right," Black told him. "Jeeze, you can just put a stasis spell on it. You're recovering from-"

Severus did, actually, want to know what he was recovering from, but he was more interested in a cauldron full of experimental core volume increaser, which was boiling over, sizzling in the blue flames the cauldron was supported over. Damn, that could be problematic, since he didn't know if the fumes were safe. He quickly pulled it off the fire, waiting for it to simmer down so that he could try to salvage it. "Go away, Black, I need to finish this. You can't put two of these in stasis at this stage."

Black turned to go, and Severus bent over his cauldron again. Saluki's Law required that the viscous emerald green medicinal potion, used to return a woman's body to its virginal state (usually for rituals, contract-wrangling, or treatment of rape victims) be sprinkled with an exact half-teaspoon of finely chopped kitsune whiskers, commonly used instead of fluxweed in potions meant to change the body permanently. But if he did that just now, then the kitsune whisker would have a bad interaction with the shaved kirin horn and the magnolia pulp. But if he _didn't_ add the kitsune whisker, then it would be too late. By the time another chance to put the whisker in the potion would come around, the pixie dust would already be scorching. If only that particular page in _Shapeshifter_ wasn't splashed with some sort of crusted liquid! Severus spent another minute deliberating and trying to decipher the words on the ruined page, as well as on the following page (which turned out to be another potion entirely) before finally deciding to go with the instructions as he understood them, expecting every moment that the potion and the expensive ruby cauldron it was being brewed in (ruby was the only thing that would not cause a negative interaction with the delicate and reactive amikiri skin) to explode all over him. But to his astonishment, the potion foamed up and then simmered down to a soft seafoam green fluid, without any adverse reactions.

Amazing! What could have caused that? Severus flipped though _Shapeshifter_ again, looking for any possible reference to kitsune/kirin/magnolia interactions. Nothing. Then he picked up another codex ( _A Treatise on Oriental Magicks_ ), and found the section on kitsunes, and then on the section of kirin. Nothing. This was going to eat him up inside if he didn't find it. And unnoticed, the traces of the core-strengthening potion sizzled and smoked.

He flipped through and skimmed though book after book, but all he could find was the typical: Magnolia blossoms mixing with kitsune whisker cause a caustic mixture that, when mixed with kirin horn, becomes explosive. Not to mention that a combination of kitsune whiskers and kirin horn was poisonous in itself. On the other side of the laboratory, pale blue smoke, heavier than air, began to carpet the floor, filling the air.

Severus saw none of it, as he was focusing on kitsune whiskers and magnolia blossoms. _What_ had caused that unprecedented reaction?

Severus was beginning to be more and more frustrated, and a little dizzy. He attended to the other potions, to make sure that none of them would explode or become useless, but at every break, every possible chance to have a moment to read, he read up on the problem. Nothing. He was beginning to grow angry. He researched each ingredient that could possibly mediate the reaction or stabilize the potion, but still nothing. One of the other potions were bottled. Four more reached the point at which they could be set aside to steep, cool, or, in one case, be put in Potion Master's Stasis. But he couldn't find _anything_ about the problem with kitsune whiskers!

And then, at last, he found it, in a small chapter sandwiched between one on wood elf hair interactions and a note on why you should never add kappa liquid to any potion without adding crushed cucumber first, he found it. Amikiri skin! For all it's supreme reactivity, it had unique properties towards reducing toxicity and reactivity in the otherwise unstable kitsune/kirin/magnolia interaction that had so bothered him. Said reaction also had the benefit of making the amikiri far, far more stable. Severus sighed in relief, putting down the book...and immediately had to stir the medicinal potion before it crawled over the sides of the small cauldron. It was not ruined, but it had been a close call. But thankfully the potion was still sound, and Severus bottled it still warm, to get the airtight seal necessary for a number of medicinal potions, and then cleaned his- no, can't get attached to it- the laboratory, before slumping against the wall. He was far more drained than he would have thought...maybe now would be a good time for a nap. No, he couldn't indulge in that yet. He needed to. Why couldn't he breathe?

Oh, dear Merlin. Severus hadn't forgotten to cast a fume hood charm since his sixth year! Severus staggered towards the door, now, too late, tasting a narcotic, dangerous scent at the back of his throat. He was an idiot! Of _course_ the fumes of the core-strengthening potion would...be dangerous...Antipodean Opaleye scales...mixing...with the crushed coffee beans...the grim saliva...makes it toxic...the world was spinning, whirling around him. He tried to approach the door, but his legs were too weak, faltering beneath him, and the fog in his brain made it impossible to concentrate on reaching it. A thousand bits and pieces of color sparked and exploded in his vision- he couldn't think- what was happening? Mist, dimming everything around him, drawing a veil over the mosaic of colored lights...and then...nothing.


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione winced as the older wizard collapsed, cinnamon eyes bright with guilt. "Oh- I shouldn't have asked- did I do that?"

"The idiot should have known when to stop casting," was Harry's response as he heaved Sirius up, assisted by Ron. "Although he probably shouldn't have been casting any more after having to remove all the spells from Snape..."

"Professor Snape," the girl replied automatically, and then blinked. "Wait, what does Professor Snape have to do with anything?"

Harry stared at her. "Oh right, I forgot you weren't awake for the explanation. I overheard a conversation between Snape and Dumbledore, where Snape wanted to quit teaching and Dumbledore was trying to guilt-trip him into staying. Snape refused, so Dumbledore cast some really nasty hexes and mind-control curses on him."

Hermione choked, hands flying to her mouth.

"And so," Harry went on, "that's why he disappeared; I had Dobby pop him to the Chamber so that Dumbledore couldn't do any worse to him, and then when I talked to Sirius, I got him to do some advanced cursebreaking on all of us, including himself. The things on Snape...they were worse than Voldemort. I'd be surprised if he has any free will at all at this point."

"Oh, God," whispered Hermione. "Where is he now?"

"Um, Sirius said that he's in the Chamber potion lab, why?"

"He shouldn't be brewing while he's still recovering!" Hermione exclaimed, giving him a look. "Didn't you try to stop him?"

"Sirius apparently checked on him," Harry replied sheepishly. "He was brewing something extremely sensitive and volatile and he didn't want it to be ruined so Sirius let him go on. I mean, think about it, he's in Salazar Slytherin's private lab!"

"He still shouldn't be brewing, especially alone; he could have had an accident and we would never know!"

"Snape, having an accident?" Ron broke in. Harry was of the same opinion.

"Honestly, boys," Hermione huffed. "We should at least check on him."

"Why don't you, then?"

"I will! Where is the lab?"

Harry pointed. Ron gave a snort. "Admit it, 'Mione, you want to explore that lab just as much as you want to make sure Snape's ok..."

"Ron!" echoed in the vast, greenish chamber as Hermione made her way to the partially concealed door of the lab. Then she opened it. "Guys, over here, and cast bubble-head charms!" she shouted.

Apprehension began to balloon up inside Harry's chest as he hurried over, casting a bubble-head charm on the way. Ron chased after him. "'Mione? What is it?"

Hermione, who couldn't speak very well with the shimmering bubble of magic distorting her features and words, gestured instead, and the boys at last saw what she was looking at: a hazy pale blue fog floating like a smoky sea inches above the floor of the lab. And Snape's unconscious form.

"Bloody hell," Ron breathed, then cast his own bubble head charm and began to non-verbally try to banish the smoke, while Harry and Hermione went further in, to attend to their teacher. They shook him first, but the Potions Master did not move, and so with a few hissed expletives (on Harry's part, at least) they attempted to lift him.

It was depressingly sad how light the wizard was. Harry barely even needed Hermione's assistance to lift him. Despite his tall frame and powerful core, he was almost pitifully thin, and Harry could feel his ribs through the dark teaching robes that he always wore. A sudden, strong wave of compassion washed over Harry again as the two of them carried the Potions Master out of the unsafe laboratory, and Harry swore, yet again, to make Dumbledore pay.

And so they brought him back to the room that they had first put him in, and then Harry and Hermione returned to decontaminate and cleanse the lab and the main chamber before whatever toxic gas that Snape had created contaminated the whole place. They cast charm after charm, banishing the vapor, cleansing the air, and insuring that the waxy residue was cleaned off of all the surfaces it might have collected on. Then, for the first time, they entered the lab fully.

Even Harry had to admit that it was magnificent, and he would be the first to deny any talent or even competence in anything besides brewing healing potions, and _that_ he had only learned by necessity. Harry stared in wonderment at the shelves of ancient, yellowing, crumbling books, and at the countless ingredients in tinted glass bottles; this place must have been Snape's greatest dream come true. Meanwhile, Hermione was nearly drooling, perusing the stacks of books with feverish excitement, and Ron was curiously examining the various cauldrons, stirrers (glass, pewter, pure gold, and bamboo, with one opal one for particularly delicate and expensive potions), and ingredients. After a few minutes of searching, he came upon several cauldrons which were not scrubbed, and cautiously testing the substances inside...

And then he found it. It was a cauldron full of a partially-burnt peacock-blue substance that was still emitting pale bluish gas. Harry raised his wand to banish it, but Ron, to his surprise, shook his head. "You don't want to just toss some potion that you aren't familiar with into non-being."

"Why?" Hermione, who had overheard him, asked. "What could happen?"

"Mum never really got into the magical theory," was Ron's vague response. "Um, but I think Fred said that it could explode or the banishing spell might backfire and vanish your wand."

Harry gulped. "Right. Thanks, Ron."

"No problem."

"But what _should_ we do with it, then?" Hermione asked. "Is there a specialized banishing spell, or do we just have to wash it out with soap and water?"

Ron shrugged. "Don't ask me; I'm not a Potions Master and I can't even come close to knowing what that stuff is. Maybe we just seal the lab and wait for Snape to wake up?"

"But then it would just fill up with gas again," Harry responded. "We should probably wait, yeah, but it'd be safer if we cast a containment charm, if anyone knows how to do that."

Ron shrugged again, but Hermione's eyes brightened at once. "Toxicos Continite!"

At once, a double, transparent shield rose around the offending cauldron. Hermione added a stasis charm and grinned. The boys stared.

"Hermione...do you know what level that spell was?" Ron asked shakily.

"Master level, why?"

Both boys stared at each other, and then at her.

"Right. Just roll with it," Harry said to a gaping Ron. "And anyway, we've got to check on Snape."

"A master level spell," Ron repeated faintly as they headed to Snape's temporary room. Harry could see Hermione's ears turning pink even from behind her.

Snape was still out cold when they checked on him, but it seemed to be more of a healthy sleep rather than gas-induced unconsciousness, as he was breathing deeply and regularly and the color had returned to his face, and since he was no longer breathing poisonous gas. The other two Gryffindors simply stared at him, looking a bit surprised and guilty for spying on their professor in his sleep, but Harry, having had to get over it when patching up the man the first time, simply called Dobby to bring him a moist cloth, water and light soup, and a blanket, as the man was shivering gently.

Dobby brought everything, and while Hermione looked on smiling and Ron gaped, Harry carefully laid the blanket over Snape's body. But as he did so, black eyes flickered open and Snape stared dazedly up at him.

"Lily Flower?"

Harry froze for a few shocked seconds. Snape thought he was his mother? What had that gas done to his mind? Was it permanent? "Shh, Professor," he responded quietly. "You're okay. Just rest."

But already, the glazed look was beginning to clear, and Snape's eyes widened still further. "P-Potter?" he nearly stuttered. A pause. "What happened?"

"A lab accident," was Harry's terse response. "I honestly don't know what the whole story, but we put the burned potion in stasis with a containment charm, so unless there is another, it should be fine. What can you remember?"

"I remember brewing in Salazar's personal laboratory, but before that, everything is a blank," Snape replied honestly. "What happened for me to be in the Chamber to begin with? Black said I was recovering, but I didn't hear from what because one of my potions was boiling over."

Harry hesitated. "It's...you will probably need a purging potion first," Harry replied at last. "You have at least two loyalty potions still in effect, and I'm not sure you'll be able to believe us. And you're not well enough for a purging potion I don't think."

Snape stared at him, emotions battling in his dark eyes. "I...see." A frown. "And how, exactly, do you come into it?"

"That's...complicated. Siri is here because I guilt-tripped him and because he was tired of staying in Grimmauld. These two are my strategist and my researcher, along with being my best friends, and they wanted to help."

"More like you shanghaied us," muttered Ron, and Harry reddened.

"Ok, I kidnapped them from the common room," Harry corrected.

Snape gave a rusty laugh, but he still looked perplexed and not a little confused. "And you? Why are you involved?"

Harry closed his eyes. Here goes. "Because I was _not_ going to let Albus Many-Names Dumbledore railroad you into Azkaban."

"Azkaban?! How...what did I do?" Snape asked, suspicion whiplashing across his face.

Well, this could go very well or very poorly. "You were planning to hand in your resignation, from what I heard, and he was angry that you wanted to leave."

Snape was silent for a long, painful moment. Harry was just beginning to think that he should have waited to tell him, when the man burst out "that manipulative old bastard!" dark eyes flashing angry and wild. "I always trusted him," he whispered brokenly. "I never knew why, except that I was inordinately grateful to him for accepting my service and keeping me out of Azkaban in the first war. In my more cynical moments, I did consider that he was drugging me, but I always assumed that I would have been able to detect it if he had.

"I should have known. That man never cared about anyone but his golden Gryffindors. Little Luna Lovegood is being bullied, and Albus pops a lemon drop. Gemma Crabbe was raped, and Albus suspends her for indecent exposure. Susan Bones is mourning her mother, and Albus offers her the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captaincy to 'cheer her up'." Snape snorted bitterly and dropped his head back onto the pillow. "I...should be well enough to occlude the artificial emotions, if you would tell me the whole story."

And so Harry began. "Ok. So you told Dumbledore you were resigning. He tried to guilt trip you and brought up a lot of specifics that I didn't quite understand, but you didn't let the old goat get to you. Finally he 'allowed' you to go, but then he cursed you when your back was turned, using the _cruciatus_ and a couple of really nasty mind magics. Then he imperiused you and told you to shut up, plead guilty, and not allow veritaserum, and then shot off a patronus to Amelia Bones saying you'd attacked him, and cast a few combat spells at the walls of your lab to make it believable. After he was gone, I called Dobby and popped you into the Chamber so he couldn't do anything worse. Then I made Sirius do a surface scan and some cursebreaking. It's...it's not pretty."

Snape gave a brief sigh. "Right. I...show me."

"Sir, are you sure?"

"Potter, I need to know."

Harry reached for the scanning paper and handed it to him with trembling hands.

Snape took it slowly and began to read, growing paler and paler as he did so. Once or twice he choked at whatever he was reading, horror in his eyes. "Gods," he murmured at last, looking sick. "I...see."

"Sir, are you ok?" Hermione cringed as soon as she said it- of course Professor Snape was not okay. But Snape simply sighed.

"May I ask what details you remember from the conversation you overheard?"

Harry blinked a few times. "Um. We wanted you to teach me occlumency and then was angry when you refused. He also wanted you to spy for him. Um, and what are horcruxes?"

Snape choked. "Dark magic," he managed finally. "The darkest possible soul magic. The reason the Dark Lord is still alive."

_"What?!"_

A nod, made rather difficult because the Potion Master's head was already on the pillow. "He split his soul into several different pieces," he said hoarsely. "Seven, to be exact. Then he gave them to his most trusted or his them personally. As long as they exist, his followers can resurrect him, though it will grow more and more difficult each time and most of his followers will probably gladly be shot of him."

The Golden Trio looked at each other and then back at Snape.

"So how do we kill the pieces?" Ron asked at length.

"There are several ways," Professor Snape said after a moment. "I wouldn't suggest fiendfyre, considering how difficult it is to control, but there are several koboholdic rituals that can decontaminate a horcrux, and basilisk venom works as well."

"We have basilisk venom, but what is a koboholdic ritual?" asked Hermione, who in spite of the gravity of the situation was as hungry for knowledge as ever. She looked as if she would have liked to take notes.

"Goblin magic. They are not allowed wands under wizarding law, but to be honest, I am not sure why that is in place, as they don't need wands in the first place."

Hermione fidgeted a little more, and then _wandlessly_ summoned a muggle pad and mechanical pencil. Both boys stared at her, and even Professor Snape looked a little surprised, but she only shrugged and started scribbling on the pad. "Right. Rituals, basilisk venom, and fiendfyre. Is there anything else?"

"I don't believe so, Miss. Granger, except for perhaps goblin-forged blades imbued with basilisk venom," replied Professor Snape. "And...may I ask how long you have been doing wandless conjuring? That is usually a master level technique."

She blinked at him, and then at the pad and pencil. "I've always been able to do it," she replied. "I mean, I wasn't always able to conjure things, but wandless magic is pretty easy. I just sort of...reach for my core, I guess? It was just that I did accidental magic one day, and then I wondered if there was a pattern to it, you know, and if I could do it on command. When I was little, it didn't really occur to me that it was unusual- I just used it to get books that were out of my reach or sneak invisibly into the kitchen to get a jar of Nutella or whatever. I stopped doing it so much when I went to Hogwarts, though, because I didn't want to be even more different than I already was, being a muggleborn and a bookworm."

No one seemed to know what to say to that, until Ron asked irrelevantly "what is Nutella?"

"Chocolate hazelnut frosting in a jar- you'd love it," she responded. "it was the only sweet things my parents ever kept around the house, you know. Anyway, shouldn't we be talking about our plans for the war?"

Thus chastened, they returned to the topic.

"So how many of these horcrux things did Volde-" Snape hissed in pain, and Harry amended "- _Tom_ make and what are they?"

"He made seven, as I said," Professor Snape responded. "One of them is the diary that possessed Miss Ginevra," (Ron winced) "which has already been destroyed, due to the basilisk's fang you impaled it with. You, Mr. Potter, have impossible luck."

Harry blushed a little. "And the others?" he went on resolutely.

"There is also a dark artifact hidden in the Gaunt shack in Little Hangleton, a locket that once belonged to Salazar Slytherin, Hufflepuff's charmed chalice, an artifact of Ravenclaw's- I don't believe even Dumbledore knew what it was, and he certainly didn't tell _me_ , and another that Dumbledore hinted might be the Dark Lord's familiar."

"Oh, gross, he stuck part of his mangled soul in his snake?" Ron asked, looking rather sick.

Professor Snape nodded. "Yes. Lastly, of course, there is the piece of his soul which is actually where it is supposed to be, in his body. My arithmetical calculations indicate that having only six horcruxes would be very unstable, but Dumbledore never conclusively told me if he thought there was another, although his evasions tempted me to think that there might be. I don't know what it could be, though, or even if it was intentional."

"Right. So we got the diary; that's one down. Then there's the thing at Gaunt shack, a locket, a Ravenclaw artifact, a cup, and possibly his familiar, and then the potential for another that we don't know about conclusively, right?" Hermione summarized, scribbling furiously until her lead snapped, and then shaking the pencil until more lead came out.

"Yes."

"And we can destroy them by casting fiendfyre, drizzling basilisk venom on them, or talking to the goblins."

"Yes."

"Right, ok. Do you know if the goblin rituals destroy the horcruxes, or just decontaminate them? It would be a shame to destroy Founders' artifacts just because that bastard contaminated them with Dark soul magic."

"I believe the rituals would leave the artifacts intact, although the original magic might be stripped along with the horcrux; I'm not entirely sure," Professor Snape responded.

"So we should probably go to the goblins if possible," she said, chewing on the top of her pencil. "Ok. Oh, um...would those rituals work on a living creature like Nagini? If she were innocent and just being possessed, like Ginny, it would be horrible to have to kill her."

"Albus hinted that an Avada Kedavra would be effective on a living creature, but it would be best to research that," was Snape's response. "I believe that some of the books in Salazar's library are Herpo the Foul's books on soul magic and reincarnation, so that could help."

"Right, so an Avada Kedavra is possible. Do you know if that would work on all horcruxes, or just living ones?"

Snape shook his head, dark hair fanning out on the pillow. "That should probably be researched as well. It would be much simpler for all involved if all that is necessary is the Killing Curse, although the Dark Lord will have probably put defenses on his horcruxes to counter that."

"What about dementors?" Ron asked suddenly.

"Dementors?"

"Well, yeah, I mean, they eat people's souls, so it would make sense if they could eat horcruxes too. And since they only eat souls, they wouldn't harm the things the horcruxes were encased in. That would obviously not work for a living horcrux, of course, but then, neither would a vial of basilisk venom, so we're no farther from figuring out what to do about that."

The others looked at Ron in surprise for this comment. He shrugged. "I'm just saying..."

"It is a good point," Snape told him, and his ears tinged red at the unexpected complement from his most-hated teacher.

There was a short silence, and then Harry broke it, saying: "Horcruxes aside, what is the plan? First we have to figure out a way to get you out of Dumbledore's power, Professor, and then we have to work on taking Voldie down. Um, is there anything we need to know about that? Like, will Voldie's death cause a bad interaction with your Dark Mark or something? What should we do after he is gone?"

"I am not sure what will happen to those who are marked," Professor Snape told them. "And we should probably focus on destroying the Dark Lord first."

"But what about Dumbledore?" Ron chipped in. "He's not going to just sit back eating lemon drops while we interfere with his plans...well, actually he might, but the point is that he's still a wild card here. He could get us into big trouble."

"Well, to start with, Sirius was thinking that we should fake your death, Professor," Harry said unexpectedly. "If you're supposedly dead, first of all, you'll be off Dumbledore's radar, and secondly, your wand not be tracked anymore because the ministry trackers decay with death."

One dark eyebrow went up. "May I ask how you know that?"

"You can ask," said Harry cheekily, but then elaborated: "I was reading a lot about how the ministry works after Fudge tried to drag me in front of a kangaroo court for legitimate underage magic, so I picked up some things. Apparently if you are "dead" for twenty-four hours, then the charms decay, and so forth. Of course there are ways to get around that, though, like dark rituals that give you the semblance of death and stuff; I was thinking Draught of Living Death, because it isn't dark and it's relatively safe."

Snape looked a little uneasy at this, but said only: "You have planned it out, then?"

"Well, I was thinking...do you have a house?"

"Yes, of course. I boarded it up as soon as I legitimately could, but I do still own it. I was considering selling it- it's a muggle house, after all- but it is not a very good bit of property and I didn't want to deal with the hassle, anyway. Why?"

"Because I could stage an attack. Let Dumbledore think you were hiding out there and some of your detractors attacked the house and killed you. Unless- does polyjuice change your magical signature?"

"Yes..." Snape replied, uncomprehending.

"And, can Tom kill you through the mark?"

"I don't believe so, no. I have studied the composition using a pensive, and using Dumbledore's notes, and the mark essentially suppresses empathy, enhances cruelty, binds me to him as long as he lives, which he no doubt assumed would be forever, and acts as a mild magic siphon. It is also a protean charm and, of course, burns when he wishes to call us. The headmaster did some invasive tests proving all that, not that he told me. I had to steal his notes and study them myself. Why?"

"Well, if I was to leak to, like, Theodore Nott or one of the other Darker Slytherins, or maybe to a minor Death Eater, that you were a traitor, or maybe have Rita Skitter run a story about how you were a spy for the light, it would be quite understandable for some of the other Death Eaters to come after you. Then we could stage a fight, with us polyjuiced, and then I'd cast the Dark Mark with a stolen or second-hand wand, then you'd take Draught of Living Death and then it would seem as though you were executed by the other Death Eaters."

Snape stared at him. "That is, actually, quite a good plan, although there are several bits that might be problematic. I don't believe that the Department of Magical Forensics would really care to do any deep digging, so it doesn't have to be all perfect, but how in Merlin's name would you get hair from enough Death Eaters to make it look realistic, where would you get the spare wands, and what will happen to me after I am 'dead'?"

"Well, the hair is easy enough. Ever since Hermione accidentally took polyjuice with a hair from Millicent Bulstrode's cat, I collected hair from the people I thought it would make sense to want to impersonate later, so that we wouldn't have anymore cat hybrids."

"Harry! What are you doing?" Hermione cried.

Harry shrugged. "What's he going to do, make us scrub cauldrons? I can hang. Anyway, I have hair from Lucius Malfoy, from the whole Chamber debacle in Second Year, I have Peter Pettigrew's hair from when he tied me up to the gravestone in Little Hangleton for the resurrection ritual, and I have hair from Bellatrix Lestrange from a locket at Grimauld Place. Dobby can probably get hair from someone else, if we need it."

Snape's eyes widened.

"As for the wands," Harry continued, "Dobby can probably get me some, or Sirius could go to Knock Turn Alley and pick up some generic training wands that might work. Also, isn't there a time-delay mixture of Wiggenweld Potion and Draught of Living Death?"

"Yes," Snape responded. "It is horrendously difficult to brew, but it can be done, and I can do it myself, given enough time to recover. Yes...that could work." He was silent for a long moment. "And what did you say about casting the Dark Mark?"

"I overheard the Barty Crouch Jr. cast it at the World Cup in my Fourth Year. It would certainly make the whole thing look a little more authentic..."

"Yes..." Snape said, not so much responding to Harry as confirming what he had been thinking. "That could certainly be done, and it would be a good way to get Dumbledore off the trail, provided we remove any tracking spells or destroy and tracking instruments he has. Or..." he trailed off.

"Or what, sir?" Hermione, who had been watching in silence and writing this entire time, asked.

"Or I could cast the _facies altera_ transfiguration on myself."

"The what?" Hermione asked, hurriedly picking up the pencil she had set down in her lap moments earlier.

_"_ The _facies altera_ transfiguration," Professor Snape repeated. "It essentially, temporarily, changes you into a different version of yourself; a different combination of your parents' genetic material. For example, if I were to cast it on Potter, he might then be red-haired and brown-eyed, or blond, or even female. It is not strictly legal, but not exactly illegal, either, and it is indetectable except by the caster, so if I were to cast it on myself, for as long as it lasted, Severus Tobias Snape would no longer exist, and no trackers would be able to find me, because they are usually blood, core, or name keyed."

It took a moment for the others to digest _that_.

"What if we did both?" Hermione asked abruptly. "Then 'Severus Snape' would be assumed dead, and someone else could take his place. We could even transfigure something into a corpse so that you would supposedly be buried!"

It was at that moment that Dobby popped in. "Great Master Harry Potter sir, there is two girls in the Chamber!"


	8. Chapter 8

"What?!" Harry burst out.

"There is two girls in the Chamber!" Dobby repeated, eyes wide.

The trio looked at each other, and then at Professor Snape, and then back at Dobby. Hermione drew her wand. "Right. We'll be right there."

In moments, they had left Professor Snape's bedside and hurried into the main Chamber, wands out, expecting attack every moment. Only to see...

"Ginny?" Harry asked in disbelief, staring at the girl. _"Luna?"_

"They've kicked Dumbledore out of Hogwarts," said Ginny breathlessly, eyes wide. "There are more of those horrible old educational decrees pinned up everywhere, and Umbridge was _torturing_ Luna!"

Harry stared, unable to focus. Beside him, Ron's mouth was gaping. Even Hermione's wand-arm was shaking a little as she lowered her wand, but, fortunately or not, she managed to pull herself together faster than the boys.

"That _bitch_ is using the blood quill on Luna? And what do you mean Dumbledore's kicked out of Hogwarts? Was it the aurors or the Ministry? How did you even get into the Chamber?"

The two girls stared at her. "Yes, yes, it was the Ministry, and I'm a parselmouth," Ginny said promptly.

_That_ threw even Hermione for a loop. She had been in the middle of fumbling in her bag when she dropped it, all at once, letting the contents spill out all over the Chamber floor, potion vials and papers and quills and chocolate frogs tumbling about her feet. "You're a parselmouth?"

Ginny shuddered. "When Tom...when he...when I was...yeah, I can still speak it. I hate it, and I hate this place, but I had to get Luna somewhere where the Pink Bitch can't come!"

Hermione frowned, then abruptly picked up her bag again. "Here; what am I thinking!" she said, fumbling around and pulling out a cloth and a bottle filled with a murky yellow substance, the same things that she had used on Harry after his many detentions with the Blood Quill. Quickly, she dabbed the substance- murtlap essence, Harry realized- onto the cloth. "Here, Luna. Murtlap. It'll make the wounds stop hurting."

Luna took it with a smile and began rubbing it on her hand, while Ginny helped her. "Thank you."

"N-no problem," was Hermione's reply. "So what's this about Dumbledore kicked out of Hogwarts?"

"The Ministry came to 'remove him' but he just grabbed Fawkes and retreated. How in Merlin's name are we going to make it through NEWTS now?!"

"He just up and ran, like a coward?" Ron burst out.

"Flew," was Harry's response. "Although Merlin only knows why Fawkes sticks around..."

Ginny stared at them, although Luna, who of course had seen through the old man's facade, was not so incredulous. "Wait, what do you mean?" she asked. "Dumbledore's a great man!"

Harry swallowed, shooting a glance at the other two members of the Golden Trio. "Hermione, can you do the honors?"

Hermione frowned, then drew her wand. "All I can do is a diagnostic and maybe some minor cursebreaking." Then she flicked it in Ginny's general direction. She instantly found a wand pressed into the hollow of her throat. Both boys and Luna drew their wands, ready to stun her if necessary, but were careful not to approach. Besides, Hermione looked like she had it under control.

"What were you going to do?" Ginny hissed. Hermione, still a little wide-eyed, lowered her wand, but also refused to back away.

"Ginny, I need to check you for compulsions. All of us had some and it just occurred to me that you probably had some too."

"Why, because I respect Dumbledore?"

"No, because you're close to Harry, and he and most of his friends are in danger right now what with the ministry acting up."

Ginny slowly relaxed. "Alright. But for Merlin's sake, _warn_ me if you're going to do anything like that again."

"I-I will. I'm casting a diagnostic right now, is that ok?"

"Yeah, ok." Ginny was still tense, but she wasn't thrusting her wand into Hermione's neck anymore either.

Hermione cautiously cast, and a slip of paper, rather like the one that had appeared during the diagnostic on Snape, but shorter, appeared. Hermione began to read it and grimaced almost at once. "Oh, Merlin."

"Can I see that?"

Hermione was about to give it to Ginny, though she was still reading it, when she saw something further along on the list that made her pale with fury and continue reading. "That old son of a bitch!"

"What is it?" Ron asked, approaching. Hermione gave _him_ the paper, instead, seeming to feel that Ginny should probably not read it until the potions had worn off, which Harry definitely concurred with.

_Diagnostic:_

_Patient: Female, fourteen years of age_

_Physical condition: good_

_* Propensity to nosebleeds_

_* Occasional_ _migraines_

_* Feminine issues_

_Magical condition: poor_

_Obsession serum keyed to Harry Potter_

_Compulsion to write in Tom Riddle's diary and not stop, cast by Tom Riddle_

_Compulsion to write in Tom Riddle's diary, cast by_ _Albus Dumbledore_

_Compulsion not to seek out help, cast by Albus Dumbledore_

_Soul-damage- untreated_

_Dark taint from possession_

_Carita Altera potion_

_Love potion keyed to Harry Potter_

_Trust potion, keyed to Albus Dumbledore_

_Loyalty potion, keyed to Albus Dumbledore_

Ron, having read it, promptly punched the wall of the Chamber that happened to be closest to him, crumpling the paper involuntarily. "That slimy old bastard!"

"Who is the target of such language, Weasley?"

Four heads whipped around in shock; only Luna did not seem surprised that Snape had come up behind them.

Ron, however, recovered quickly. "I'm just talking about Albus Dumbledork," he snarled, rubbing his knuckles.

"I understand the sentiment, but what in particular has made you so angry at him?"

"He used a love potion keyed to Harry and _Carita Altera_ potion on Ginny!"

Professor Snape's face twisted in a snarl, and Harry nearly exploded with anger, thinking about the old man trying to make the poor girl fall for him for what? Some twisted plan that probably wouldn't have even worked in the first place?

"Excuse me, sir, but what is that second potion?" that was Hermione who, even with her anger, was always interested in learning things.

Professor Snape opened his mouth to reply, but Ron beat him to it. "It's a traditional pureblood potion meant for correcting your, um...choice of partner," Ron said, blushing hotly. "Only like the Blacks or the Lestranges or some of the other the really uptight families use it anymore since we have same-sex conception potions." He paused, and then stared at Ginny, eyes widening as he seemed to realize what _that_ meant, and then he blushed even more.

Hermione was blushing too, but not from embarrassment. "That's sick! You can't just mess with someone's head like that just for _tradition_! That's even worse than a regular love potion!" The others took a step back as sparks, bright orange as Crookshank's fur, flew off of her, crackling in the dank air of the Chamber. "The fact that that's not illegal is just a testament to how messed up the Ministry of Magic is! They outlawed the imperius, didn't they? So why haven't they outlawed all these horrible old potions!"

"Hermione!"

Hermione jerked her arm out of Ron's grip. "Don't you Hermione me!"

Ginny made an abortive attempt to step in, but no one was listening, and so Hermione just went on: "No, just stop and listen for a second. I _agree_. And as soon as we can, we'll petition for trying to outlaw all the really potent potions that have no good applications, but right now we have to figure out how to stop Dumbledore from doing what he did to Professor Snape and to Ginny to anyone else ever again. He's the biggest threat right now. The Ministry is the next biggest threat, but they are also doing some of our work for us, defaming Dumbledore and all that. Voldie's lying low right now, so we don't actually have to worry about him so much, more like just keep an eye on him while we get the Pink Bitch out of Hogwarts and make Dumblemort _stay_ out."

Slowly, Hermione seemed to calm down, and the sparks stopped flying, although her frizzy hair was still standing almost on end from the angry magic. "Right. First things first though. We've got to figure out who else Dumbledore dosed with psychotropic potions and who else the Pink Bitch has been torturing in detention, and we've got to get them help. I don't trust Madame Pomfrey, though, since she would probably have figured out what Dumbledore was doing from the get-go, the first time someone needed an in-depth diagnostic, so until we figure out what's going on, we'll have to...wait, what will we do? Um...Professor Snape, are you well enough to help?"

"Yes. A few cleansing spells won't kill me," Professor Snape said calmly, still leaning against the wall of the Chamber, as he had been since before they had even been cognizant that he was watching.

Listening to all of this, Ginny was getting more and more frustrated at what, to her, must have seemed like a descent into madness. At last she couldn't restrain herself. "What in Merlin's name are you talking about?! What's going on? What was on that scan that you're getting so angry about?!"

"You might want to sit down," was Hermione's shaky reply.

Ginny did so reluctantly, holding her hand out for the diagnostic paper. "Let me see that; I should think that I have a right to..."

Hermione gave it to her without another word. She carefully smoothed out the wrinkles left-over from when Ron had crumpled it and then read it, growing paler and paler with each line. "I...is this real? It can't be, can it. Professor Dumbledore-"

"Is a right bastard," Ron interrupted, eyes still following the paper where it quivered in her shaking hands. "I didn't want to believe it at first, either, but he's not all you think."

"If...if I'm really under a loyalty potion, a purging potion will clean it away, won't it?" Ginny asked, sounding far too young and far too afraid.

"Yes Miss Weasley." That was Professor Snape.

"Then do you have one on hand?"

Snape hesitated, then drew a small vial of dirty brown potion out of the many pockets in his long black teaching robes. "Are you sure, Miss Weasley? A purging potion can be very unpleasant."

"So can the withdrawal from loyalty potions," she replied, proving herself more competent at potioncraft than any of the others (except perhaps Luna) would have expected. "I have to know."

Snape wordlessly gave her the potion, and she drank it down. Almost instantly, her face reddened with the fever of the potion working through her veins, flushing out foreign potions, and then she leant over and was violently sick. And then she straightened, shuddering. "Th-that meant it worked, right?" she asked cautiously, once Hermione had cleaned her up and vanished the vial. She blinked hard a few times, rubbed one hand over her face, and then reached out for the parchment diagnostic again. This time, she showed nothing but anger, reading it. She scanned it twice, as if to make sure that she was reading it right, and then she abruptly spat several words that Molly would most likely have _scourgified_ her mouth for. "Right. So how did you figure out what he was doing?" she asked, turning back to the others. "I sure as hell wouldn't have suspected, and neither would pretty much any other wizard I know."

"That's a long story," Ron began. "I think it started with Harry having to go back to the classroom to retrieve his Potions textbook..."


	9. Chapter 9

The house on Spinner's End was rumored in the neighborhood to have been boarded up for as long as many families in Cokeworth could remember. Some others remembered the last family in residence: a rough and cruel alcoholic, his battered wife, and their odd and standoffish son, but many had assumed that the son had moved out as soon as he could, or had been packed off to relatives when his parents died.

It had become almost something of a legend now, for those few people who still remembered the mill days, before the old factories had shut down and the ghost town had regained some semblance of life. Some swore that they could see flickering lights inside the old building, on occasion, but no one ever went in and no one ever went out, so the people said that it was home to the ghost of the old drunk, doomed to haunt the earth forever in penance for his wife's murder. Others said that it was the wife, rather, who lived in the house alone, driven mad first by her husband and then by solitude. Children dared each other to throw rocks at the darkened windows or to go up to the door and ring the doorbell, but no one ever came out, and after a while the lure died away, and the house was left to the tenderer mercies of the bats roosting in its attic and the weeds growing up from the cracks in the pavement step. The story had mostly even been forgotten, by this point, just a little small-town "hant story" that grandparents told small children to scare them, or that children told each other at sleepovers by torchlight when the feral cats screamed in the night just beyond the curtained windows. Indeed, the house had long fallen silent; no "spooks" had been reported or even rumored for years, other than the occasional troublemakers rigging paper phantoms in the general vicinity to scare the more gullible of their compatriots.

It was not quiet tonight. The neighbors were woken by a pounding and a sound like that of gunfire, as well as a strange cracking noise that had no viable source. Heads popped out of windows to see that the formerly "abandoned" house was lit up like a Christmas tree with eerie colored lights, greens and reds and purples, flaring in the windows. The sound of shouting and the hurrying of feet could be heard, and then screaming. One of the neighbors grabbed his gun, and another called the police, but by the time the constables arrived, all was still. Too still. They approached the door, still boarded up. There was another loud bang from within, and one of the constables reached for the door with a skeleton key, prepared to pick the lock. In the same instant, there was another explosion, and the door fell outward nearly on top of them, battered down with a rusty protest of hinges and a wail of dry plywood. Unheard in the yard, several pops heralded the appearance of several more men on the scene, men that might have been constables themselves if not for the strange clothes and the fact that they seemed to be armed with sticks instead of pistols.

Then the muggle police heard a sharp voice behind them, just as they were silently dialing for backup, and three hands flew instantly to pistols. The command issued, however, momentarily stopped them from firing.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but we can take it from here," said a tall, dark skinned man, dressed in what seemed almost like robes.

"By whose authority?" asked the man in charge of the city constables, suspicious.

The other flashed a badge, and somehow the constables were suddenly aware that these men were from a secret governmental agency, better equipped to handle this then they could, and they felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to turn the case over to the strangers.

"Very well, sir," their commanding officer stated, at last, letting the others by. The man had rushed inside in an instant, followed by his second, a young woman who seemed to have hair dyed a lurid pink. The Cokeworth police stared after them a moment, before suddenly remembering some paperwork that really _did_ have to be done. And then they were hurrying away, inexplicably trusting the team that had come to take over and too busy thinking of their paperwork and the shrapnel which had stuck them in the faces and upper bodies when the door had blown up. Meanwhile, the neighbors still watched, entranced. This was probably the most interesting thing they had witnessed since Old Lady Hopkins adopted a fox thinking that it was a puppy.

Kingsley Shacklebolt and his younger accompaniment Tonks (or at least it seemed like the young auror, although had Kingsley been looking more closely, he might have noticed something off about her) entered the old house, disillusioned and with silencing charms layered over their standard auror uniform so as to preserve the element of surprise. Not that they even needed to, as it turned out. The sounds of footsteps or creaking floorboards would hardly be noticed with the melee up ahead...

"Damn it, come on, Lestrange! I don't care that you want to torture the traitor, the aurors are coming!" snarled a male voice- Lucius Malfoy- from the bowels of the dilapidated old building. "Just kill him and get over here!"

" _You_ can just kill him yourself and then bring our Lord the body then, and hope you survive the night. I wouldn't want to be you," Peter Pettigrew's sniveling voice replied. "I say stun him and let the Dark Lord figure out what old Snivellus deserves.

"Besides, I want to play with him! I didn't get a chance to with Twillings, after all..." Bellatrix almost whined. Kingsley felt like well up in his throat.

"That was your own fault, bitch. Come on! _I_ don't want to be caught."

"Our Lord will understand if we go to Azkaban in his name!" shrilled the woman, sounding perfectly mad.

"I have a son, I'm not risking it. _You_ can, if you want."

"Traitor! Unfit for our Lord's service!"

The aurors crept around the corner to see four Death Eaters, Lucius Malfoy, Peter Pettigrew, Bellatrix Lestrange, and another unidentifiable one, surrounding a crouched and panting Severus Snape. Kingsley was about to cast anti-apparation warding and just stun all the Death Eaters before they were noticed, but at that moment there was a flash of green, and Snape wobbled and crumpled lifeless. Something about the way he fell didn't seem quite right to Kingsley, but there wasn't really any time to think about forensics, and it was abundantly clear that the Potions Master was dead. He stepped forward, Tom is at his side, anti-apparation wards up and wand blazing, but in that same instant, a stunner came flying out of nowhere- one of his own stunners which had simply hit the wall and ricocheted (or so he had thought) and he crumpled instantaneously. Tonks grinned and lowered her wand in the same moment.

As soon as the older auror had crumpled senseless and the other had ceased to be a threat, "Bellatrix" straightened, while "Lucius" walked over to help Snape up. "You ok?"

"Been better," the Potions Master wheezed in return, clutching at his side. Just because the flower-fertilizing charm that Hermione had found wasn't the killing curse didn't mean it hasn't hurt when it had tried to fertilize him. Unfortunately, it would hardly have been authentic if they hadn't at least tried to make it look as though they had cast the killing curse, and that charm was the only thing that they could find on short notice that caused a similarly colored light when cast.

"Sorry sir," "Bellatrix" said uncharacteristically, as she cast a counterspell and a general healing charm. "'S that better?"

"Much. Now let's get on with this."

"Bellatrix" grinned, then reached into a pocket in her robes and handed her Professor a bottle of a light pink potion. "What's the plan again, Hermione?"

"Pettigrew" pulled out a notebook. "Your bit is done. Professor Snape, um, we'll need your help to give Harry a fabricated memory to use as testimony. He'll wake up King and then they'll go in and give the powers that be core samples and hair from all of the 'Death Eaters', along with taking Professor Snape's 'body' to the morgue. Then once the papers and reports are all filed and so on he'll make sure the portkey worked and took Snape back to the Chamber. If it has, we reconvene there. If not, he takes him back under his invisibility cloak and then we reconvene there."

"Sounds good," said "Bellatrix" and "Tonks" at the same time.

"Harry, how do you cast the Dark Mark again?" "Rookwood" interrupted.

"The wand movement is like for a regular animated firework, but you add a loop and curl at the end of the slash, like so, and the incantation is _'morsmodre'_."

"Like so?" asked "Rookwood", imitating the wand motion with the tip of his finger.

"Yeah."

"Rookwood" grinned, but it was a bit uneasy. "Ok, I got this. Merlin, I never thought I'd be casting a Dark Mark like I was a ruddy Death Eater..."

"Don't talk about it, do-!" "Bellatrix" said, pausing mid-sentence to stun Kingsley when he groaned. "-it," she finished, while "Rookwood" sighed.

Meanwhile, Professor Snape had by this point finished helping "Tonks" fabricate a memory of the fight for the aurors, and so gave the bottle containing the altered memory back to the boy-turned-auror and was now looking at the phial in his hand, rather apprehensively. After all, even with the fail-safes that he had built in to the plan for his own sake, he was still putting his life in the hands of a group of adolescents who, until recently, he had treated like thestral shite, mood-altering potions or no. And then he rubbed the hidden portkey he was wearing one last time, glanced around at the serious faces of the polyjuiced students around him, and swallowed the cocktail of potions in his hand to the very last drop.

He fell instantly, face suddenly waxy, eyes glazed and half-open as it took affect. Everyone but Harry, who had seen death before (and knew that the onset wasn't exactly accurate, even if he would look quite dead in a few minutes) and Hermione, who was documenting the effects in her notebook, turned away in horror or disgust.

It had clearly worked, however. The polyjuiced students stared at each other, and then at his prone body.

"Alright. Let's get a move-on." That turn of phrase sounded decidedly odd from Peter Pettigrew, but the others only nodded, knowing that it was really Hermione talking.

"Lucius" and "Bellatrix" disapperated, knowing that they were no longer needed for the colossal plot, while meanwhile "Pettigrew" gave "Tonks" last minute instructions and scribbled a few more notes.

"Tonks" just nodded along, listening. "I know, 'Mione'," "she" said at last, gulping down an extra dose of polyjuice just to make sure it would not wear off at the auror office when "she" was turning in "her" report. "You've told me all this like a thousand times; I'm not going to forget."

"Make sure that you don't," Hermione returned. "His life is depending on how good your acting skills are."

"I acted like Dumbledore's perfect pet for four years straight, and the Dursleys perfect servant years before that. I think I can handle being an audit I know well for like half an hour, especially since Snape's death is not really a high-profile case."

Hermione nodded reluctantly. "Just make sure to be safe."

Harry resisted the urge to make a smartarse remark. "I will, thank you. Now I better get cracking. Glamour yourself, because I'm going to wake Kingsley up."

Hermione nodded and backed into the shadows, while Harry 'enervated' Kingsley and Ron cast the Dark Mark in the sky above Spinner's End, where it writhed, green and hideous, in the sky. And both aurors were shortly on their way to the Ministry of Magic with a body on a conjured stretcher, "Tonks" filling her superior in on what he missed on the way, while the neighbors wondered at the odd and terrifying fireworks in the sky.

Half an hour later, with Kingsley's awkward questions and congratulations deflected, the aurors office navigated, reports written, and a few memory spells cast, Severus Snape was officially deceased, all the papers were in order (bequeathing all of his assets to a T. R. Prince, except what little would be expected to be sent to his colleagues and few select friends) and the body had been claimed from the ministry morgue by a family member who wished to remain anonymous. And the actual Professor Snape was waking up in the Chamber with a headache that felt rather like a herd of Madame Maxine's winged palaminos on too much firewhiskey, surrounded by the others.


End file.
